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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633470">An Eye Among the Laurels</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSlayer47/pseuds/TheSlayer47'>TheSlayer47</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Background Relationships, F/M, Falling In Love, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Friends With Benefits, Healing, Humor, Mystery, POV Original Female Character, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Revenge, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Those Who Slither in the Dark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:42:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>61,866</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633470</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSlayer47/pseuds/TheSlayer47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Haunted by a tragedy that changed not only the course of her life, but also her body, Amira enrolls in Blue Lions House to become stronger in her quest for revenge.<br/>She never expected such important relationships to develop… especially not with Sylvain Gautier, a troublesome, irritatingly handsome Noble.<br/></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sylvain Jose Gautier/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: slightly graphic description of violence at end of prologue</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Lone Moon, 1179 </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The orange flames of the campfire grow in confidence, a centerpiece to the men setting up camp around it.</p><p>“Alrigh’,” says a hulking, scruffy man. “Someone start the fuckin’ dinner. I’m goin’ tuh take a shit!”</p><p>Some of the other men shout ‘aye’ in response, continuing to set up camp.  </p><p>The man plods away into the dense woods. Using his hatchet, he hacks through the entanglement of branches in his way, his footsteps crunching through the remnants. </p><p>“Goddamn it,” he grunts. “Didn’ wantuh camp here anyway.” </p><p>The glow of the fire dims behind him, the sounds of camp being set up give way to the noises of the forest. A light breeze rustles leaves, squirrels gathering food, birds chirp. </p><p>He decides on the right tree to lean against, sheathing the hatchet and starting to unbuckle his pants.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Thump. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The man whips his head around. “Ay?” He takes a step away from the tree and listens... </p><p> </p><p>All is silent.</p><p> </p><p>Drawing the hatchet, he raises it defensively. He crouches, looking over his shoulder and keeping his back to the tree as his eyes comb over the area behind him. Nothing. Turning back toward camp, he peers to see if he was followed. The other men were busy with tasks, all accounted for.</p><p>His eyes scan the treetops as he turns away from the camp again.</p><p> </p><p>All is still.</p><p> </p><p>The hatchet goes back in the sheath.</p><p>“Eh, <em> goddamn </em>animals.” He walks back to the tree, drops his pants and squats.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>CRACK! </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Head exploding in pain, his eyes are overcome with blinding whiteness. He falls sideways onto the hard ground. A bloody rock lands near him and rolls away. Agony and flickering consciousness render him unable to move or make a sound.</p><p>A foot kicks hard into his chest, rolling him onto his back. His assailant steps over him and drops their knees over his hands, sitting on his chest. A small hand grabs a handful of his hair, pinning his head to the earth.</p><p>He opens his eyes and, through the floating white spots overrunning his vision, he can barely make out the face hovering above his. He realizes they are wearing something that conceals the lower part of their face.  </p><p>A sharp blade presses against his throat, blood beading where it lands.</p><p>He can feel the heat of their breath on his right cheek, and a harsh whisper escapes the assassin’s lips,</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Not even the devil will forgive what you’ve done.”   </em>
</p><p> </p><p>With a forceful slash, the blade opens the man’s throat. Dark blood spurts and gargles from the parted flesh, his body thrashing helplessly. The assassin watches as the man’s body slows, his last breaths being drawn, life dimming and leaving his eyes, and, finally, the forever stillness. </p><p>Ripping the dead man’s shirt, they find what they are expecting: a patterned scar covering the width of his chest- two laurel branches cupping a circle, an eye in the center. After cleaning the blade on the torn material, the assassin jogs silently away from the camp.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Two down, four to go.</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Evaluations.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Amira tests into a division and meets some classmates.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Great Tree Moon, 1180</em>
</p><p> </p><p>My father used to tell my mother and I that we were the most beautiful women in the world.</p><p>Mother would laugh and I’d shake my head, which would lead him to chasing me. I’d run away laughing and he’d always catch me, swinging me up into his arms and holding me tight, saying I should never forget how beautiful, clever, and loved I am.</p><p><em> I wonder if he’d still call me beautiful</em>.</p><p>We looked identical, my mother and I. Our eyes the lightest blue, “like a clear summer sky”, father would say. Black, curly long hair, thick eyebrows, and bright smiles to match our big laughs. Lightly tan skin on our strong bodies from life on the road. Always roaming place to place with three other merchant groups. Eight adults, nine kids, four wagons and families coming together as one.</p><p>We didn’t have much money, but we had enough to keep from wanting. Every day somewhere new. A different place to play, train, smile, and laugh together. But that was then.</p><p>Now, I just wonder.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>CLANG!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>I shake my head, the sound of someone’s training lance falling to the ground snapping me back to the present. I need to focus and run through my list again, even though I’ve done it so many times over the past hour.</p><p>My hands move to each place:</p><p>
  <em> Hair tied in a secure bun. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Scarf tight around my head, keeping my nose and mouth covered. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Turtleneck high. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Long sleeves. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Shirt tucked far into pants, belt taut, training daggers in their sheaths. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Boots snug. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> All checks.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ok… patience... breathe... </em>
</p><p>
  <em> …Ugh! </em>
</p><p>This waiting is fucking <em> agonizing </em> . </p><p> </p><p>I’m trying and failing to stand still. Bouncing on my heels, stretching my neck, shaking out my shoulders. Pretty sure I’m irritating the shit out of the people near me. They’re already looking sideways because I cover half my face. Yet telling them it’s better than the alternative seems pointless. At least while we’re strangers. They wouldn’t understand.</p><p>As each minute ticks by, I watch student after student step forward to demonstrate what they consider their strongest ability. </p><p><em> I’m so ready to get this over with </em>. From what I’ve seen so far, I can easily take out most of these students. </p><p>I wish the nobles were being evaluated too. Of course, since <em> they </em> have proven education and training, <em> they </em>don’t have to go through this like us commoners do. But some are still here, at the opposite side of the training grounds along with those who have already had their turn. </p><p>You could leave if you wanted to, but most stay to either watch their friends or size up other students. </p><p>For those of us still on <em> this </em>side of the grounds, we’re waiting to be evaluated in order to determine what division of our respective house we belong in.</p><p> </p><p>If placed in Division 1, or D1, then we’re in the House Leader’s group. D1 is mostly full of nobles who’ve had proper training their entire lives, and some commoners who show impressive skill and potential.  They go on missions more frequently, often riskier, as the nobles need the experience to better serve their houses and positions,<em> or whatever </em>.</p><p>Division 2 and 3 are backups for other students needing more studying and training before going into the field, at first sticking to less risky missions, such as patrolling villages to keep the peace. </p><p> </p><p>Not that any mission is risk-free, anything can happen at any time. Thinking you’re safe is dangerous.</p><p>But still, D1 is the only spot I want to be in.</p><p>I need to be.</p><p>I <em> have </em>to be. </p><p> </p><p>Being born in the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, I’m automatically registered into the Blue Lion House. The other two houses are the Golden Deer of the Leicester Alliance, and the Black Eagles of the Adrestian Empire. This year each house leader also happens to be a future leader of Fódlan. Golden Deer have recently confirmed future Alliance leader Claude von Riegan; Black Eagles have future Emperor, Edelgard von Hresvelg; and Blue Lions have the future King of Faerghus, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.</p><p>
  <em> No big deal or anything. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“AMIRA BLACKWOOD, step forward.” Seteth calls. He is the assistant to Lady Rhea, the Archbishop of the Church of Serios, and in charge of evaluating our placement in the Academy.</p><p>I close my eyes and take a deep breath before walking forward to stand in the middle of the fighting circle in front of Seteth.</p><p>
  <em> I’m strong. I’m fast. I’m powerful. I can do this. </em>
</p><p>Looking straight into his green, judging eyes, I make sure to cross my right arm over my chest to properly bow. So glad I wasn’t first, otherwise I would not have known to do that.</p><p>“Pick the weapon you’re most skilled in.” Seteth indicates toward the weapons rack, where we can choose from gauntlets, axe, sword, lance, bow, or a badge to indicate a magic user. </p><p>Instead, I take one of my training daggers out of its sheath and hold it out. “Sir, I would like permission to use one of my daggers in lieu of a sword.” </p><p>I can hear light murmurs in the crowd, probably curious about what the hell I’m thinking.</p><p>With brows furrowed, Seteth clears his throat. “Ms. Blackwood, you want to use… a dagger… against our swordsman?”</p><p>“Yes, if I may, sir.” I maintain eye contact, focusing on staying calm.</p><p>He frowns at me and stares for a moment. Probably sizing me up, and likely trying to decide whether I’m brave, cocky, or stupid to take such a risk during evaluation, and in front of most of the students attending the academy. </p><p>“Very well,” Seteth gestures for the swordsman to step forward.</p><p>Backing up to the edge of the circle, I smirk. Luckily my confidence is hidden behind my scarf. A good reason for waiting so long, even with my impatience, is the benefit of watching this particular soldier face other students who chose the sword, so I know exactly what he’s going to do first. <em> I have this.  </em></p><p>My body is starting to tingle with anticipation, getting ready to make this fight as fast as possible. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I allow the coldness that dwells inside, like a lioness before pouncing on her prey, to swallow me whole. I glare up at the swordsman, who’s now at the opposite side of the circle, facing me. </p><p>Once Seteth is off to the side, he nods for us to begin.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 30 seconds is all it takes. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The swordsman starts toward me. Bolting from my stance, I rapidly pick up speed in the short distance between us. His long reach to keep me at bay is useless. With my dagger in hand, I weave through his defenses, getting close and landing hard strikes before disarming him and making him fall to the ground. The sword once in his hand, now at his throat.</p><p>After a pause, I step in front of him and hold my hand out, offering help up. He accepts it, and once standing shakes my hand- either impressed, completely shocked, or both. Taking back his sword, he nods at Seteth as he walks out of the fighting circle.</p><p>The grounds are silent, air slightly tense. No one seems sure what to make of my performance. </p><p>Then one student booms with laughter and claps. This breaks the tension as the others follow suit, but you’re <em> supposed </em> to clap a little for everyone. The murmurs, though, are louder than before. </p><p>I try not to let stuff like laughing and murmurs get to me, but I can’t help it. My clothes stayed in place. So far I had the fastest take down. Was it just so improper of me to ask to use a different weapon? I won the match, why should it matter? </p><p>Maybe Leonie, the Golden Deer student whose dorm is right next to mine, will be in her room. She was placed in D1 for her house and left after her demonstration. Maybe she can give me an idea of what was so odd about mine.</p><p>Despite my worry, I smirk, remembering  just days ago when we met at Commoner’s Move-In Day.</p><p>---</p><p>Right away, I knew I’d like her. I heard a heavy thud from her room, followed by very loud swearing. It reminded me of Samantha, my sister (not by blood, just closeness), who swore loudly and often… which is also like me, to be honest. Leonie is spirited, with very short light red hair, and brown eyes with gold flecks. The funniest thing about her so far though, is she’s always worried about being cold. When I asked about the jacket wrapped around her waist, she said it’s always there “just in case”.</p><p>We also bonded over all the academy’s talk about “wanting nobles and commoners to be treated equally”, but noticed they sure have a lot of divisiveness.</p><p>Commoners arrive first.</p><p>Commoners stay on the first floor.</p><p>Commoners need to demonstrate their intelligence and skill to be placed.</p><p>Commoners need to save and plan for years to get into the academy since it’s so expensive.</p><p><em> Whatever </em>. It is what it is. Nothing new.</p><p>I will say, being first to move-in made the next day entertaining when the nobles arrived. </p><p> </p><p>Garreg Mach Monastery is built on a large hill, so there are three levels to the first floor. Leonie, myself, and two other girls, Lysithea and Mercedes, reside on the lowest level nearest to the Greenhouse, and right next to the staircase to the second floor. </p><p>Lysithea is a few years younger than us, and despite angrily saying she doesn’t want to be treated like a kid, she makes it hard by acting like one. “Academy is for studying”, she snaps as she heads to the library. Classes haven’t even begun yet.  </p><p>Joining us in our entertainment are two other girls from the middle level of the first floor, Dorothea and Annette. We used our desk chairs to sit and chat on my patio, casually watching the nobles pass us to go to their dorms. They had <em> so many </em> things, and servants carrying those things, of course. Our rooms are the same size, so where the fuck were they going to put all their shit?</p><p>There is one noble who had only two bags and no servants with him. He has a heart shaped face, thick eyebrows, caramel skin, and chestnut hair with a single braid hanging to his right. Leonie said this was her House and future Alliance leader, Claude. He seemed cool, to be honest, giving us a friendly “Hello!” paired with a wink and smile as he walked by, making Dorothea giggle.</p><p>“There are some <em> delicious </em> people attending the academy this year,” Thea purred. </p><p>She’s not wrong. I find it unfair how everyone around me seems to be beautiful in their own ways. <em> Unlike me. </em></p><p>Take Thea, she has a radiant smile and a wink that makes my brain blank for a moment. She’s just so charming, with her beautiful, luscious brown hair cascading past her shoulders, and an adorable hat slightly off center.</p><p>“Alright, ladies. What do we think of <em> him </em>?” Thea said while pointing towards a tall young man with a pointy nose and light red hair that swept across his face</p><p>She hums a low tune, and I’m picking up what her differences in tone mean. Thea used to sing with an opera company, so she sings little tunes all the time. When it’s low like that, she finds someone, as she said, <em> delicious </em>.</p><p>We enjoyed playing this game of guessing personality traits, primary weapons and picking something that makes them physically attractive. Mercedes and Annette mostly partook in deciding a positive attribute or two about each noble.</p><p>Leonie scoffed. “Full of himself, obviously. Look at that smug expression.”</p><p>Mercedes clicked her tongue. “Now Lee, when it comes to the nobles, why are you always quick to be negative? I see him as confident and excited to be here.”  </p><p>“I agree, Mercie! Plus he has red hair like us, Lee! Us red-heads need to stick together!” Squeaked Annette.</p><p>Lee rolled her eyes. “Pfft, <em> Goddess no </em>. Everything is so easy for nobles, they think they deserve to be here just because of their status. We had to work and earn our way here, so they can fuck off for all I care.” </p><p>Thea smirked. “Oh yeah? Even Claude? The cutie who said hello and winked at us? Don’t think I missed some red in those cheeks of yours, Lee.” She reached out to pinch Lee’s cheek but it was slapped away.</p><p>“Oh, shut up. Fine, he seems alright. Haven’t talked to him yet so he’s not in my good graces. Points for carrying his own shit, though. But this guy? You see confidence, I see stuck up and snobbish- like Lorenz. You know, the guy with the shitty haircut from the Alliance. <em> Uhg </em>,” her eyes rolled.</p><p>Thea giggled. “I’m not a fan of most nobles either, Lee. That one in particular is Ferdinand von Aegir. He’s the son of the Empire’s Prime Minister. Very arrogant. But he’s still nice to look at. Ferdie’s got some serious sex eyes.”</p><p>Mercie laughed loudly. Lee, on the other hand, spat some of her tea out. “SWEET GODDESS, THEA!” </p><p>I laughed. “Ok, ok! We didn’t guess Aegir’s weapon. His shoulders were broad. When a man has shoulders like that, I automatically think their primary is lance.”</p><p>Annette tapped the training axe sheathed on her hip. “Or axe!”</p><p>“True, true, Annie.” I said.</p><p>Three more people came into view. Thea leaned forward and spoke quickly. “Ok, so the white haired woman in the middle is the future Emperor, Edelgard von Hresvelg. On her left is Hubert Vestra, Edie’s vassal and heir of the Marquisate of Vestra. I don’t know who that gorgeous woman on her right is. Mmmmm..”</p><p>Gorgeous indeed. And turned out not to be a noble, as she veered off from Edelgard’s side and started walking in front of us toward the stairs. She had long, thick, purple braided hair and smooth dark skin.  She was trying to carry three bags, but one of them dropped. She turned towards us to pick it up, and I noticed a purple arrowhead tattoo under her right eye. </p><p><em> Oh, she’s from Brigid! </em> I’ve only met two people from there, since it’s an island they don’t often come to Fódlan, and my merchant family hadn’t the opportunity to sell there. But the woman I met also had that tattoo. I glanced at Thea, whose mouth was slightly open and her cheeks blushing. </p><p>I called out to the woman. “Hey! Would you like help with your bags?”</p><p>She perked up and smiled at us, then spoke with an accent. “Oh yes, that would be welcoming! I’m Petra!” </p><p>“Nice to meet you, Petra! I’m Amira, that’s Leonie, Mercedes and Annette. And Dorothea here is who will help you!” </p><p>Thea shot me a playful glare, but said in a cheery voice. “I’d love to help!” </p><p>When she passed me she pinched my shoulder, but I had a feeling she’ll be appreciative later. Thea picked up the dropped bag, and the two were chatting as they walked up the stairs.</p><p>Annie giggled. “Oh, Amira! Very perceptive of you. We’ll need to keep a straight face around our crushes with you around, huh?” </p><p>I raised my eyebrows at her. “You’re not wrong!”</p><p>Lee shook her head. “If you do anything like that to me, I’ll kick your ass.”</p><p> </p><p>The only thing about sending Thea away is she knew who the Empire nobles were. At least the Lions and Deer are still here to tell me who most of them are, which I was grateful for. Mercie and Annie pointed out a group of Blue Lion nobles who had arrived together, including the future king, Dimitri. </p><p>Dimitri is tall and very broad shouldered. His blond hair nicely framing his gentle face, helping his blue eyes stand out. He looked serious though, and I was surprised by the deepness of his voice when he spoke to the even taller, broader, darker man next to him.</p><p>“Dedue, I can carry my own things. You have your own dorm to move into. Give me my bags.”</p><p>Dedue turned away from him, preventing Dimitri from grabbing them. “No, Your Highness. I am your vassal, it is my duty.”</p><p>He shook his head. “I wish you would call me Dimitri. Especially now that we are both students here, I see you more as a friend than my vassal.” Dedue did not respond to this, still holding the bags firmly.</p><p>Behind His Highness and his vassal were three other people. One of them was a tall girl with a round face, and very long blond hair pulled back into a braid. She was shaking her head and rolling her eyes, obviously at the tall, red-headed boy next to her. </p><p>Not going to lie, I gave this red-head a looong look. His hair is shaggy, and he would run his hands through it just to make it messier, and somehow made the simple act so sexy. His coffee colored eyes are round and friendly. His smile is wide, and very cheesy. He definitely <em> knows </em> he’s hot.</p><p>He seemed to be teasing the shorter guy next to him, his hand resting on his friend's shoulder. He has a slender body, sharp face and black hair pulled in a messy bun with cinnamon colored eyes. He looked pissed off, which was confirmed when they were close enough for us to hear the conversation.</p><p>“C’mon, Felix! Roam around the monastery with me. Chat up some pretty girls. It would be fun!”</p><p>Felix made a loud ‘tch!’ sound and shook his head, jerking his left shoulder so the red-head would take his hand off him.</p><p>“Shut the fuck up, Sylvain. I want to unpack, then find the training grounds. I don’t have time for frivolous bullshit like that.” He spat.</p><p>Sylvain was completely unfazed by his friend, now wrapping his arm to rest on Felix’s shoulders. It looked like Felix tried to shrug him off again, but Sylvain maintained his grip. </p><p>“Damn, Felix, you seriously need to lighten up. Put a smile on that face of yours for once. I bet it’d make the girls melt.”</p><p>The blond girl punched Sylvain hard in the shoulder. “Oh my Goddess, if you tell <em> anyone </em>to smile one more time, I’m going to get my riding crop and whip the shit out of you.”</p><p>He looked down at her, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Oh Ingrid, you promise?”</p><p>The absolutely <em>piercing, </em>cold look she gave him seemed to snap him out of his teasing. He took his arm back from being around Felix’s shoulders, hung his head and mumbled something I couldn’t hear. Whatever it was made Ingrid smile a little.</p><p>She may have smiled, but my raised eyebrow of interest had pulled down to a scowl. While Sylvain is hot and clearly has charm, I did not like the firmness of his grip on his friend, <em>forcing </em>him to stay there. Subconsciously, I moved my hand to my dagger and tapped it.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p><em> Tap, tap. </em> </p><p>Seteth jotts something down on his paper as I stand waiting for his decision. His eyes are wide as he looks up from his clipboard and slightly shakes his head. </p><p>“Ms. Blackwood, you are placed in the 1st division of your house. Thank you for your demonstration.” </p><p>I bow and briskly leave the training grounds.</p><p>The wind is lightly blowing, I raise my hand to check the scarf. Still tight. It’s always fine, but I always check. I just want to get to my dorm. Uhg, why did someone <em> laugh </em> ? What was <em> that </em> about?</p><p>I am about to descend the first flight of stairs, when I hear a shout behind me.</p><p>“Hey. Hey! Amira, right?”</p><p>I stop and turn around to find Sylvain approaching me, the <em> he-knows-he’s-hot </em> red-head. He catches up and smiles. I suck air in- <em> wow </em>, feels different to be on the receiving end of such a thing. His smile is like the damn sun, bright and warm. I can feel an aura of delight radiating out of his skin.</p><p>
  <em> Well, fuck. Keep it together, Amira. </em>
</p><p>I nod. “That’s right.”</p><p>I’m not going to make him aware I know his name. The other day when he was talking to Felix about finding women to talk to, he sure didn’t notice a group of women, all but me very pretty, sitting in clear view. </p><p>He swings his arms out. “I just had to tell you that was the most impressive thing I have <em> ever </em> seen.” </p><p>Those dark brown eyes… oh damn, they <em> twinkle </em>.</p><p>He steps very close to me. I have to tilt my head up to make eye contact, but his face is right there, and I can smell his soap… is that... lavender?</p><p> Ooh yeah, he’s <em> too </em> close. I take a step back and rest my hands on my hips, near my daggers.</p><p>“Thank you. It’s just what I know best. It wasn’t… I don’t know… improper to use a different weapon?”  </p><p>He laughs. <em> That laugh! </em></p><p>My eyes harden. “Hey, <em> you </em>laughed at me.”</p><p>He crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps a little more pronounced. “Oh no, definitely not at <em>you. </em>The look on Seteth’s face was <em>priceless</em>. Like I said, that was incredibly impressive. I think everyone was just so surprised, I honestly couldn’t help it. It wasn’t because you did anything wrong, I promise.” He reaches a hand out to me. “I’m Sylvain Gautier, by the way. We’re in the 1st division of the Blue Lion House together. And I’ll tell yuh, I’m grateful to have you as an ally.”</p><p>My eyes flicker from his face, to his extended hand and back, and I raise an eyebrow. He winks as I put my small hand in his large one to shake it, and he surprises me by beginning to lift it up to his bowing head, as if to kiss it.</p><p>Swiftly, I retract my hand, and raise a dagger to his throat. He raises his arms in surrender, taking a couple steps back. </p><p>“Woah! Ok, ok! Remember, I said grateful to have you as an ally!” He flashes me a large smile, seeming mostly unperturbed. “See you in class tomorrow, then?” He spins around and heads back to the training grounds.</p><p>Sheathing my dagger, I stand there for a minute, processing, before slowly continuing to my dorm, thinking about those brown eyes.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>1. Thank you to my best friend, @kayladb, for beta'ing my story from the beginning. Would never have written as much as I have without yuh!</p><p>To my second beta, clueingforlooks_95. Not even in the fandom, and learned about each of the characters and was patient while I explained certain things, but she has been extremely valuable and amazing in this process. Incredibly grateful!</p><p>2. When I wrote this story I forgot Petra is technically 15 at the start of the game… SO since this is MY story, she’s 18 here.</p><p>3. When I was researching months and such, I learned that in the game, Great Tree Moon is their new year, not Guardian Moon! So, that's interesting. (Unless I totally misunderstood... lol</p><p>4. I like to imagine the training grounds being more in the shape of a high school football field with a track and bleachers on two sides. But smaller. So like they’d have to run 6 laps to make a mile instead of the standard four. And instead of grass/turf it’s dirt, except in one corner there is padding for grapplers. I also imagine another corner has archery targets and stacks of clay discs. And whatever else they’d need. Just bigger than what's in the game lol</p><p>Lastly, my twitter handle is @HiStacyHere</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Ties.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Felix and I hop up, unsheath our training swords and twirl them in our hands as we walk to the center of the grounds. His eyes narrow at me, and I raise my eyebrow back in reply.</p><p>“Don’t think I’m going easy on you,” he spits.</p><p>I chortle, “I was going to say the same thing to you.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Great Tree Moon.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, I still manage to be the last student to arrive to class. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To make sure no one walks in on me in the women’s washroom, I wake up at four in the morning. Still a risk I guess, but so far so good. I don’t take my time, I get in and out as fast as I can. The last thing I want is anyone seeing me naked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As I dry off, I look down and slowly slide my hand over my small breasts and down my once tan, now pale body. Nearly every inch is covered in scars. Some small, some very long, like a child haphazardly drawing a map to nowhere. Or to hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bringing my hand to my cheek, I trace along the one, long scar. From my right cheek, it crosses down through the side of my full lips, past my chin to the left and middle of my neck, where then it moves across my throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a miracle I’m alive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I finish drying off and put on one of my brand new uniforms. I’m grateful there were so many options to choose from, including high collars, long sleeves, leggings and long boots. On my way here I was so nervous I’d have to attempt to sew my own pants and sleeves, it’s a relief I didn’t have to. I’m shit at sewing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first day of class, I decide to wear a dress with a thick white blouse, long sleeves and gold embroidery across the chest. Attached is a high collar with a little scarf I tie to make a loose bow. From under my breasts and ending just past my ass, it’s black and form fitting, with gold buttons and more gold embroidery. I put on black leggings that went to my ankle, and slip on knee high black boots. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Checking the mirror to make sure the uniform looks alright, I smile.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Damn, I look pretty good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so, I don’t know, womanly? I haven’t worn anything this fancy in… well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking up to put my hair into a bun, my smile drops as my eyes land on my face and remember I’m kidding myself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How can I look good?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Last thing I do is put on my knife belt and sword, then tie my black scarf to my head, making sure it’s snug over my nose. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’ll do</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I walk back to my dorm. My guess it’s only about five. Breakfast is ready at six and class starts at eight. So I decide to just lie in my bed to wait.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dumbass</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I wake up at 7:45am, luckily I’m close to the dining hall anyway, so I bolt to grab a biscuit before jogging to my classroom. I shove it in my mouth so I can tuck my scarf into my collar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning into the classroom, I spot Annette and Mercedes sitting at a table, and in front of them a boy with shaggy silver hair has the spot next to him open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking over, I say in my friendliest tone, “Hi! Is it okay if I sit here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up at me, and he has the cutest face, with freckles and big green eyes. He falters for a second, surprised by my scarf probably, smiles and responds in a slightly high-pitched voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, of course! I’m Ashe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you! I’m Amira, it’s really nice to meet you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turn around to say hi to Annie and Mercie, and we include Ashe in our conversation. He and his siblings were adopted by a man named Lord Lonoto after his birth parents died, which is how he got here. Ashe is a mix of Mercie and Annie, kind and bubbly. We learn he likes to garden and cook, and has already signed up for many shifts in the greenhouse and kitchen. I didn’t even realize I had to sign up for anything. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Need to remember to check that out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In walks the new professor, or Byleth, as I was told by Leonie, since she already met her. Byleth’s father, Jeralt, was a Captain of The Knights of Serios before suddenly leaving to be a mercenary and single father for the past however many years. Now that he’s back, he was reinstated as Captain. Leonie says a few years ago he had spent some time in her village and trained her during his stay. It’s what made her want to become a mercenary and come to the Officers Academy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leonie also mentioned the professor was young, but I didn’t realize she must be around the same age as us. Despite that, I’ve met mercenaries. If she grew up with a weapon in her hand, this woman is without question a fucking badass. Plus, if the clothes Byleth is currently wearing is her typical mercenary uniform, then she is obviously confident in her abilities, since there isn’t much armor or protection</span>
  <em>
    <span> at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a lot of her skin exposed. I see she has scars on her body, too. But unlike mine, hers came from doing jobs and getting into fights. If mine were for the same reason, I wonder if I’d still hide them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Professor looks around the room at everyone, her dark blue eyes showing no emotion. Literally nothing. I glance around at my classmates to try to take in what others impressions of her seem to be, and I need to hold my breath to stop a laugh from escaping. Ingrid has her hand tight over Sylvain’s mouth, apparently stopping him from saying something obnoxious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth walks to the chalkboard and writes a couple things.</span>
</p>
<ol>
<li><span>     Name, age</span></li>
<li><span>     Skill(s) you: excel in and want to work on</span></li>
</ol><p>
  <span>She turns to face us.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Write your answers down. I’ll answer while you write. My name is Byleth, which is what I prefer to be called, but I know protocol is for you to call me Professor. My father didn’t celebrate birthdays, so I don’t know mine. Yes, I don’t know how old I am and that it’s weird. Feel free to talk to my dad about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walks around to the front of her desk and leans against it. “My strongest skills are sword, brawling, and tactics. I haven’t learned magic, but I’m interested. Don’t care for heavy armor. Good at everything else. If there are things you want to excel in that I feel I can’t strongly speak to, I will make sure you attend lectures that support your goals.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She crosses her arms. “I’m aware my face and voice are monotone, so I’ll tell you now that I care, and want to teach you to be strong warriors. My goal is to make sure you don’t die.”</span>
</p><p><span>When we finish writing, everyone has their turn. I’ll admit it’s nice to learn a little about everyone, and it helps break some ice between us.</span> <span>Byleth collects the papers, then asks us to follow her. I quickly realize we’re heading to the training grounds. Once we’re inside, we gather in the middle. A few of us scuff our feet in the dirt as we wait for directions.</span></p><p>
  <span>Byleth looks over us. “Alright. I want to see you demonstrate these skills. I’m going to pair you up with classmates who have the same first or second skill, and you’ll spar in front of us. This is so I can better prepare us for the mock battle in a week. Go warm up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I start jogging around the perimeter of the training grounds, occasionally shaking my arms out to loosen up. Ingrid has followed suit, while Mercie and Annie are just slowly walking and talking. The others pick up a weapon and are going through standard movements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix, who is the only other one to list the sword as their primary, and I have similar builds. I would be surprised if we weren’t paired to spar together. So, I watch him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s giving a lot away, like he can’t help but go hard already. Then Sylvain walks over to him and whispers something in the swordsman's ear.</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As I get closer to passing them, Felix looks over, glaring at me. He puts his training sword in its scabbard and starts stretching instead. I give Sylvain a suspicious look and he winks at me. He must have noticed me study Felix’s movements. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Huh. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>While I don’t have to study someone to beat them, I don’t mind having a leg up. But I got enough to know Felix is fast and experienced, so I’m not going easy on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come hear your pairings!” Byleth calls out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were what I was expecting. In order of who will spar first to last, Byleth chose Dimitri and Dedue, then Sylvain and Ingrid to spar with lances, Annie and Mercie will use magic, Byleth will have Ashe shoot clay disks as a bow demonstration, and Felix and I will sword fight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is very fun to watch the others compete. One thing the Blue Lions definitely have in common is we are all </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>competitive. Everyone is fairly well matched, but so far one would be just slightly more skilled than the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dimitri is faster than Dedue, so he wins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain is strong but sloppy, and Ingrid is more precise. Ultimately, her technique is more effective. All us girls cheer loudly when she wins, it’s just so satisfying. Even though he lost, Sylvain is completely unbothered and has the cheekiest grin slapped on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As sweet as Mercie and Annie are, they drop that as soon as they face each other. They go at it for a few minutes before one of Annie’s spells hit Mercie in the chest. When Byleth calls it, they rush to each other to make sure the other is ok. So adorable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe hits nearly all the clay discs Byleth throws in the air. He’s precise, but could work on his confidence with drawing the bows out of the quiver. That’d help him be faster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, my turn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Felix and I hop up, unsheath our training swords and twirl them in our hands as we walk to the center of the grounds. His eyes narrow at me, and I raise my eyebrow back in reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t think I’m going easy on you,” he spits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I chortle, “I was going to say the same thing to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Sylvain gives a low “</span>
  <em>
    <span>ooooooooh”</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and there is light laughter, making me smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth tells us to begin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We both start to circle each other, slowly getting closer until he lunges and I parry his movement. We do this dance a little as we get to know each other's footwork, then the fun begins. We thrust, slice and parry our swords, clinging with every attempt to hit one another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We’re moving fast, and we’re moving hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying to outmatch the other's energy, and constantly making the other move across the grounds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The salty taste of my sweat drips into my mouth, I see his own flying off his brow. But our adrenaline is high, neither of us are close to getting tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually we start to play rough, trying to kick dirt into the other's face, try to use tricky dodges and movements to work around each other. But fuck, we’re both just so determined to win. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he ducks under my next thrust and I try to dodge his tackle. We fall down, our backs landing hard on the ground next to each other and simultaneously point our swords on the other's throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all that, it’s a fucking tie. We stay laying there for a second to catch our breath before Ashe comes to offer his hand to help me up. I take it and see Sylvain try to do the same for Felix, who just slaps his hand out of the way and gets up on his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix sheaths his sword and looks in my eyes as he walks up. “Spar tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I smile, remind myself he can't see it, then bob my head. “Absolutely.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking over at Byleth, she nods. Swelling with pride, I take that as approval.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Candid.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>'I’m incredibly surprised no one has asked why I wear a scarf on my face. I thought I’d have to awkwardly dismiss the question to everyone. Whether they are too uncomfortable to ask, or it’s improper to do so, either way I appreciate it. </p><p>Then I meet Claude.'</p><p> </p><p>And Sylvain, showing a wide range of Sylvain-isms.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Great Tree Moon. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Winning feels amazing. </p><p>The Blue Lions won the first mock battle of the year. Not only does it feel wonderful, it’s also nice to have all the houses hanging out in the dining hall together afterwards. I finally got a chance to talk to and meet more D1’s. </p><p>So far I like most folks here, only a few really irritating me. This girl in the Black Eagle house, Bernadetta, is terrified of <em> everything </em> . One look at me in my scarf and she sprinted away, the shout of, “ <em> she’s after me! </em>” echoing in the dining hall.</p><p>Then I met one of the nobles Leonie hates the most, Lorenz, and I understand why… the absolute arrogance and presumption of that guy... Talking about what he thinks is best for commoners, but didn’t consider asking the commoners themselves what could make their life ‘better’. <em>Ugh.</em></p><p>Even so, how is everyone here attractive in one way or another? It’s both wild and annoying to be surrounded by what I’m not. </p><p>I’m also incredibly surprised no one has asked why I wear a scarf on my face. I thought I’d have to awkwardly dismiss the question to everyone. Whether they are too uncomfortable to ask, or it’s improper to do so, either way I appreciate it. </p><p> </p><p>Then I meet Claude.</p><p> </p><p>I’m sitting on the edge of a table, my feet on the bench. I’m enjoying watching others talk, taking sips of my tea, when suddenly the Golden Deer House Leader is next to me, like <em> right </em>next to me. Like his shoulder, arm, and leg are touching mine. </p><p>Glaring, I scoot over a bit, and am about to tell him off when he starts talking. “Hey Flash, can you tell me something?” </p><p>I raise an eyebrow. “Care to learn my real name before giving me a nickname, Claude?”</p><p>“It’s Amira, I know. I asked His Princliness a while ago. You know, between you and Teach, I’ve realized I have a lot to learn. Your moves! You’re so fast and smooth. A lot of my Deer didn’t see you coming, <em> literally </em>. I wish you both were in my house.” </p><p>Now that I’m close to him, I see that Claude’s eyes twinkle with mischief. He rakes his hand through his hair, making his braid sway, and I smirk as a memory clicks into place. <em>That braid…</em> <em>Oooooh</em>. </p><p>“Anyway, I’m curious about your face covering. Why are you wearing one?” He asks boldly. I look away and shake my head. He continues, “I’m just asking because in my travels, I’ve seen a couple people wear one like that. Tends to be because they’re hiding something.”</p><p>I throw my head back and laugh. “Ha! <em> Obviously </em>I’m hiding something, or I wouldn’t wear it, would I?” </p><p>“Alright, true,” he chuckles. “Then I’d just like to know why. Care to share?” </p><p>I whisper, “And I’ve met a couple people in <em> my </em>travels who have a braid like yours, Claude.” I give him a knowing look. </p><p>He glances around us, checking to make sure no one is near, and whispers back, “Ah, I see. Well, how about a secret for a secret?” </p><p>I roll my eyes. “I’ll think about it. Telling you mine, I mean. Of course I’ll keep yours.” </p><p>He opens his mouth to say something else when Sylvain walks up, a playful glint in his eyes. “Ok, what’s going on over here, Claude? Trying to steal one of our secret weapons?”</p><p>“Ha! She has secrets, but that she’s a weapon is no longer one of them.” Claude winks at me.</p><p>One corner of his lip turning up, Sylvain crosses his arms. “Well, stop wasting your time, no way we’re letting this girl go.” </p><p>I chortle at the red-head. “Oh! And what about what<em> I </em> want, Gautier? What if <em> I </em> want to join the Golden Deer House?”</p><p>Sylvain hops up on the table, sitting on the other side of me and drapes an arm over my shoulders, squeezing while he says, “Nope, not gonna let you.”</p><p>I jam my elbow into his side. He gasps, removes his arm and scoots a bit to give me a little space. </p><p>“Ok, blue eyes, I get it! Anyway, back off, Claude, I don’t want to fight you again. Though I guess we know what would happen, huh?” </p><p>Claude’s laugh is loud and pure. “I seem to remember <em> me </em> hitting <em> you </em>with an arrow, Sylvain. So wipe that smile off your face.” </p><p>The red-head leans in, “You <em> wish </em> you got me, you mean. I still think you narrowly missed, it was an unfair call.”</p><p>Not liking how close Sylvain has gotten to me again, I unsheath one of my daggers and rest it on my thigh, my fist clenched on the hilt. He only leans back in response, my casual warning not impacting his enthusiasm in the slightest. </p><p>An amused smile creeps onto his stupidly handsome face. “Aww, c’mon, Amira! Promise you’re staying with us.”</p><p>I click my tongue. “He didn’t technically ask me to join his house, we were just talking.”</p><p>Sylvain’s shoulders relax. “Still, promise.”</p><p>My eyes roll so much I think they’re going to stick. Claude leans back on the table, looking past me at Sylvain. </p><p>“May the best man win, then.” I snap my head to glare at Claude, whose eyes just twinkle at me.</p><p>“On that note,” I hop off the table. “Thanks for the chat guys, see you later!” </p><p>I beeline to Byleth, who is standing on the opposite side of the room. Besides wanting a break from all that <em> male energy </em>, I want to schedule a couple training sessions this week, anyway.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The market is slow today. Villagers and monastery folks meandering between stalls, either scrutinizing every apple for bruises, bartering with the blacksmith about the cost of repairs, or simply walking around, socializing with a friend. I’m feeling bored. Tired of studying and really sore from the week of daily training sessions with Felix or Byleth, I decide to wander. </p><p>I’m at the tea stall, thinking about buying some berry blend when I turn to find Sylvain a few stalls away, helping up a little kid who fell, kneeling to check if he is ok. <em> Aww, that’s pretty nice of him </em> . Once the kid shuffles away, Sylvain stands and spots me, a cheesy smile spreads across his face as he struts toward me. I roll my eyes, <em> oh boy. </em></p><p>I walk to meet him. While I hate this fake smile and the dumb words that tend to tumble from his mouth when he’s talking with girls, he’s still my teammate... and I can’t deny he has a charismatic energy that’s hard not to be drawn into. </p><p>His smile brightens, if that’s even possible. “Hey, Amira! When I saw you, I just had to come over to say hello because finding you here… feels like fate.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fucks sake.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe me and those beautiful eyes of yours can get some tea, get to know each other better?” His voice is <em> dripping </em>with insincerity, his gaze on my breasts.</p><p>Folding my arms over my chest, I don’t say a thing, just staring at him. Sylvain finishes giving my body a once over and begins to shift side to side, his eyes finally meeting mine. His forehead crinkles in confusion for only a moment before plastering the cheesy smile on again.</p><p>“C’mon, pretty blue eyes. Indulge me?” </p><p>I keep my face blank, but inside laughter is brewing. Sylvain keeps fidgeting, clearly a touch unnerved by my staring. It’s entertaining to watch him squirm like this. I’ve noticed women either cave into his charms quickly, or they just walk away. But to just blankly stare at him? <em> Haha.</em></p><p>“<em>Uhg</em>,” he runs a hand through his hair. “If you don’t want to, just say so.”</p><p>Not being able to hold back anymore, a light giggle slips through my mouth. “I’m just waiting for you to be a bit less fake, and ask me like a regular person- with consistent eye contact and everything!” I tease.</p><p>Sylvain chuckles, “Nothing fake about this, blue eyes! I just want to get to know you.”</p><p>I wave my hands to the sides and titter, “If you actually do, then great! But if you could, yuh know, look me in the eyes and ask with sincerity, I’d greatly appreciate it. I would much rather have tea with <em> you </em>than the persona I’ve noticed you put on for random women.” </p><p>His eyes narrow as he shrugs half-heartedly. “I have a Crest and am the future Margrave. That’s basically it, what else would you want to know?”</p><p>My brows furrow at his change in tone. We went from playful banter, to this touch of darkness to his comment. “<em> Huh </em>, wow... I didn’t expect this level of pretentiousness from you.”</p><p>Sylvain jerks his head back. “<em>Pretenti- </em>”</p><p>“-that’s right. To assume I, or most women, for that matter- care about either of those things. I’m not going to say all, because I’m sure there are some that do. But I’m going to say this only once.” I put up my pointer finger to emphasize my point. “I don’t give a <em> fuck </em>about Crests. Sure, useful in battle, I guess... Although, I don’t have one and I’m a badass myrmidon.” I smirk, “I can absolutely kick your Crest-having ass.”</p><p>He laughs, throwing his hands up to rest behind his head. “True! If you mean it, I don’t think you could’ve said anything to make me happier. Except,” his voice falls back into a flirty tone, “if you agree to have tea with me.” He winks.</p><p>I scowl. “Try again.”</p><p>Now he rolls his eyes, dropping his arms down. “Geez, ok.” He clears his throat and says casually, “Amira, will you please have tea with me?”</p><p>Deadpan, I say, “Actually, I’m really busy right now.” Aghast, Sylvain’s jaw drops, making me laugh loudly- “<em> I’m kidding! </em> But I’m hungry, ok with having lunch instead?”</p><p>He shakes his head at my joke and smirks. “Sounds good.” He holds his elbow out, as if to escort me. I bump my shoulder past him, glad he can’t see my smile.</p><p>As we head up the entrance stairs to the monastery’s dining hall, Sylvain chats about how he still needs to sign up for chores, and weaving through the crowd in the dining hall, I complain about reading our incredibly dry tactics textbook. Finally sitting down with our trays of food, I untuck my scarf from my collar so I can slip my spoon under it. Our conversation turns to what we think of our Professor and lessons so far. Growing tired of his continuous string of comments on Byleth’s voluptuous body, I start to throw one of my peas at him every time he makes another one, wanting him to focus on the more interesting things about her- like her badass fighting ability.</p><p>“Stop hitting me with peas! What’s so wrong about remarking on a woman’s beauty?”</p><p>I have a pea already loaded onto my spoon, waiting to launch. “So many reasons. What I’ll mention now is that you bring it up <em> all the time </em>, it’s annoying. Also, it’s the least interesting thing about her. I’m not denying her attractiveness, but she’s brilliant. Haven’t you heard her mercenary moniker is Ashen Demon? It’s so cool. And her sword fighting is like no other, I’ve learned a lot from training with her and it’s only been a couple weeks.”</p><p>Sylvain wiggles his shoulders. “I think you’ve got a crush on her, too- ouch!” I launch the pea, hitting his eye. </p><p>“Call it that if you really want to. She’s pretty amazing.” I tease.</p><p>He probably would’ve reacted in a way that deserved another pea, but his attention is diverted as a petite woman with long, curly blond hair walks up to us. </p><p>She leans her hip against the table, back to me, and Sylvain flashes his toothy grin at her, making her giggle.  “Hi, Sylvain! I had a really nice time last week…”</p><p>He pushes his lunch tray forward so he can lean his arms on the table, and I see his sleeves slightly stretch as he flexes his biceps. “It was a good time, beautiful.” He says sultrily.</p><p>She puts a hand on the table and leans toward him, her hair flowing down, making me need to quickly slide my tray out of the way of her blond locks. “Maybe we can do it again soon?” She asks under her breath.</p><p>Sylvain slides his hand on top of hers. “When my schedule clears up, I’ll go straight to you.” And the smile he flashes at her, <em> wow </em> . This is cheesy squared... <em> But dammit </em>, I see how he can get a girl to swoon. </p><p>Her breath catches, and as she stands up straight, I see her own bright smile. “I look forward to it!” </p><p>She turns and there’s a bounce in her step as she makes her way out of the dining hall. As soon as she’s gone, Sylvain relaxes his arms, then in the blink of an eye his warm features turn dark and sour. He grabs his fork and starts stabbing at the remainder of his food.</p><p>I have no idea how to react to all that, so I settle on asking a question. “I, uhh… So, who was she?”</p><p>His shoulder jerks in a quick semi-shrug. “Don’t remember her name.”</p><p>“You… don’t remember her name?”</p><p>He peers at me, “Maybe it’s Karly. Or Kim. Oh, Candice? Honestly, it doesn't matter.” </p><p>My spoon pauses in midair as I process what he just said. With a shaky hand, I slowly put it down and scowl, failing to control the anger rattling my voice. “Did you just say <em> it doesn’t matter? </em>”</p><p>Sylvain lets out a frustrated sigh,  “All she asked about on our date was how my Crest works, and how soon I’d become Margrave after we graduate from the academy. As I’ve mentioned... The only things these women care about are my Crest and title.” He says bitterly, and after a pause, his jaw hardens. “Besides, my father has made it clear that I am to be married and make lots of little Crest babies. Fucking asshole. Anyway.” He stands with his tray, lightly shakes his head and smirks, “Gonna see if I can find another girl to go out with tonight. Thanks for having lunch with me, blue eyes.” </p><p>He drops off his tray and walks out. I laugh indignantly, thinking of the irony when he referred to his dad as the fucking asshole.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>***</p><p>
  <em> A few weeks later </em>
</p><p>
  <em> *** </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Argh!”  </p><p> </p><p>My horse's saddle falls out of my arms to the dirt as I double over. My hands fly to my left, the chainmail clinking on the tunic straps under it.  <em> “Shit,” </em>I mumble under my breath, looking at my hands and seeing a little fresh blood.</p><p>The wound did not make itself known to me until we'd already ridden out of the fight with some bandits that had been invading villages near Mateus. The putrid smell of the split open corpses left behind, long since dissipating in the wind. It wasn’t until I dismounted Missy that the pain overtook me. I made sure to cough after my sharp groan, not wanting to draw attention to my pain, but doing that is getting harder.</p><p>I spit in my hands and wipe the blood onto my pants. Clenching my jaw, I stifle another cry of pain into a single hissing breath. Bracing myself with a hand on my knee, I reach to pick up the saddle when someone else snatches it. Tilting my head, I see it’s Sylvain. Some dirt and a little blood are still smeared on his face. I probably look the same, except blood is splattered on my scarf, the copper smell overwhelming my nose.</p><p>Sylvain drapes the saddle on an arm, his free fist resting on his hip. He’s glowering down at me, like the pine trees looming over us in every direction. “You’re hurt. Why aren’t you with Mercedes?”</p><p>Still in my bent position, I look around. Everyone else is busy setting up camp in the biggest clearing we’ve found in these woods so far. Some soldiers are chopping down younger pine trees for firewood. Others are setting up tents, taking care of their horses, or organizing supplies. <em> We must be too far away from Garreg Mach to make it back before nightfall. </em></p><p>I flop my head down and groan, “I have my own medical kit in my things. I bandage my own wounds.”</p><p>“That’s stupid, Mercedes can heal it in a moment. I’ll get her.” He turns to step away.</p><p>“No! Ahh, <em> fuck! </em>” I stand up too fast, the broken chainmail rubbing through the rip in my tunic and agitating the wound. I keep a hand over the hole. “Gautier, unless Mercie can heal me through my armor, she can’t help.”</p><p>He peers at me with half-lidded eyes. “That doesn’t make sense, why can't you just lift your tunic up?”</p><p>I shuffle forward to grab my saddle's horn, but he turns his body, blocking me from it. I scowl at him. “None of your business. Now, give me Missy’s saddle so I can finish taking care of her.”</p><p>I try to reach around him, but he blocks me again. “<em> Ok </em>. Whatever. But have you even asked Mercie if she can heal you with your obsessive modesty intact?”</p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Well, now I feel stupid.</em>
</p><p>Apparently, the look on my face answers his question. He rolls his eyes and walks away, calling over his shoulder, “Stay here, I’ll find her.”</p><p>I take a step after him and wince. “Leave the saddle! Uh, <em> damn </em> .” He’s walking too fast for me to even try to keep up. Looking over my shoulder, I see Missy is content, happily munching on some alfalfa a soldier must have dropped in front of her. I sigh. <em> I’ll just set up my tent first, then I can tend to my injury and properly take care of her. </em></p><p>I start hobbling toward the center of camp, where supplies are usually organized. Breathing through my clenched teeth, as I walk around a tree I spot Annie in the distance. It seems like she’s handing out tent supplies.</p><p>I only get a few more steps toward her when Mercie is right in front of me, face screwed in concern. “Amira! You should have seen me right away!”  </p><p>She moves to pull up my chainmail when I stick my hand out. “Can you heal wounds over my armor?”</p><p>Mercie crinkles her forehead. “I’ve never tried… why?”</p><p>I ignore the question. “My tunic is ripped, I’ll have to put a different one on before you heal me. I’m going to set up my tent.”</p><p>She crosses her arms. “I don’t want it to get dirty and infected. What if we just walk into the forest a little farther, and-”</p><p>“<em> -No </em>. Sorry, I know you want to help, but that doesn’t work for me. I have disinfectant and a little vulnerary in my bag, I’ll clean it as soon as my tent is up and I have my things. Which means I need to get to Annie. Then I can find Gautier to get my saddle from him. I wanted to take care of my horse first, but...” I wince, now breathing hurts. </p><p>She clicks her tongue. “Sylvain? It looks like he’s taking care of her.”</p><p>Grimacing, I slowly look around to find she’s right. Missy’s saddle blanket is off, she’s been brushed, and happily drinking some water from the bucket Sylvain has placed in front of her.</p><p>“Oh,” I say quietly. </p><p>He looks in our direction, giving us a little wave before petting Missy and striding toward the center of camp.</p><p>“That was nice of him,” Mercie softly says.</p><p>“Yeah,” I grimace as I continue hobbling toward Annie, “that was...”</p><p>Mercie sighs deeply before grabbing my bicep. “At least let me help you walk.”</p><p>Knowing that isn’t up for negotiation, I allow it. We don't get much closer when Sylvain is in front of us, holding items for a tent. “What’s this? Are you being a difficult patient, blue eyes?”</p><p>“<em>Yes, </em>” Mercie grumbles. </p><p>“Tsk, tsk. Just sit down, I’m setting up your tent,” he says.</p><p>“I appreciate you taking care of Missy, truly that was nice, but you don’t need to help- ahh!” I hunch over, harshly reminded of the feel of the blade that pierced through my chainmail in the earlier battle, and curse at my wound’s piss-poor timing. </p><p>“C’mon Amira, sit at the base of this tree.” Merice starts carefully helping me over to the nearest pine.</p><p>Annoyingly, Sylvain chuckles as he shoves a tent pole into the ground. “Yeah, <em> ok </em> . Cause you can clearly do <em> so much </em> right now.”</p><p>I roll my eyes and stop walking. “Mercie, I need to find where my things are.”</p><p>“This is your bag, right Amira?” Very timely, Ashe appears with what I guess is his bag over one shoulder, and mine on the other. “Yours was right next to mine, so I thought I’d grab it! Oh, are you ok?”</p><p>“I’m fine-”</p><p>“-she’s hurt and being stubborn.” Mercie says to Ashe with a slight edge.</p><p>Ignoring that, I crinkle my eyes so he knows I’m smiling. “Thanks for bringing my bag, I appreciate it.” </p><p>When I reach out for my bag, Sylvain takes it from him instead and tosses it into the tent.</p><p>“Alright, all done, princess.” Sylvain teases. “I’m going to eat. Coming, Ashe?”</p><p>The archer shakes his head, “I have to set up my tent still. See yuh soon.” The guys briefly wave as they walk away.</p><p>I pat Mercie’s hand, still on my bicep. “I appreciate your help. I got it from here.”</p><p>She smirks. “If you say so. But still, find me when you’re done. I’d like to see if I can heal over material.”</p><p>I nod. “Promise.” Satisfied with that, Mercie walks away.</p><p>I repeatedly groan “<em> fuck, shit, fuck </em>” as I carefully walk into the tent and drop to my knees. Immediately, I yank my scarf off, thrilled to take a deep breath of air not filtered through my blood spattered scarf. I pull the chainmail off and wince and as I peel my tunic over my head. On my side there’s a large gash where a bandit surprised me from behind while I was busy with two in front of me. I saw him just in time for it to be a slice versus a stab, then finished the three of them off. </p><p>Grabbing my bag, I dig through it to find the disinfectant, a couple of clothes, vulnerary and water. I grunt through my shut lips as I pour some of the disinfectant on it, using a cloth to get as much dirt out as possible and wipe off the blood. When I decide it’s clean enough, I swig down the little vulnerary left in the bottle. I watch in relief as my wound closes, now only leaving a shallow open scratch behind. I’d like Mercie to try to close the cut, but it’s no longer urgent.</p><p>Apprehensively, I roll my hips in a circle and stretch, trying to find any other cuts or weak spots. That seems to be my only wound. Grabbing another cloth, I pour some water from my canteen on it, using it to clean myself up a bit before putting on a clean turtleneck and scarf over my face. </p><p>I step out of the tent and find the Lions sitting on some logs around a fire, eating sandwiches I can see Dedue putting together. Excited he’s the one making dinner, I walk over. </p><p>“Thanks, Dedue.” I pull one of the plates of sandwiches toward me. “I’m always happy to see if it’s you or Ashe cooking.”</p><p>“They’re just sandwiches,” he states, always the stoic man.</p><p>“Even your sandwiches are usually delicious. Can I use this?” Dedue nods, and I borrow one of the knives he’s using to cut my sandwiches in quarters. I hand it back to him, untuck my scarf from my turtleneck, and slip one of the quarters under to take a bite. “Mmmm,” I moan while I chew. “Yup, don't know how you do it, Dedue. But even your basic sandwiches are fuckin’ good. Thank you.” </p><p>I see his shoulders briefly shake from holding a laugh. He calmly says, “Thank you, Amira. Glad you enjoy it.”</p><p>Turning around, I see there’s a vacant seat next to Sylvain on the other side of the campfire. I walk over and plop down next to him. </p><p>“Hey,” I say. He just nods to acknowledge me since he’s chewing on the last bite of his sandwich.</p><p>I clear my throat, “I appreciate that you took care of Missy, and it was really nice of you to set up my tent. So, uh, thank you, Sylvain.” </p><p>As I say his name, he jerks his head and flashes me a big, goofy grin, making me laugh out loud. “Don’t make a thing of it.” I joke.</p><p>His jaw drops, “<em>Don’t make a thing of it? </em> You finally said my first name! After a <em> month- </em>”</p><p>”-it has <em> not even </em>been a month-”</p><p>“-nearly a month of ‘<em>shut the fuck up, Gautier’</em>, and now it will be ‘<em>shut</em><em> the fuck up, Sylvain</em>’” he sighs dreamily, “out of your mouth… my first name and fuck in the same sentence, what a dream- <em> ouch!</em>” His hand flies to his shoulder, where I just punched.</p><p>I roll my eyes, “I didn’t hit you <em> that hard. </em>And you ruined it, Gautier.” </p><p>“<em> Damn, </em>” he shakes his head, “you’re strange, but I think I’m figuring you out.”</p><p>“Heh, what do you think you have figured out?” I say.</p><p>He bites his lip and says, brimming with confidence,  “Oh, that’s staying with me. <em> No way </em>am I sharing my findings.”</p><p>When I finish my sandwich, I’m about to stand up to wash my plate when Sylvain jumps to his feet and takes the plate out of my hands, stacking it on his. </p><p>“Oh, ok. Thanks.” The look he’s giving me is like a puppy waiting for a treat. I smirk,  “Thanks, <em> Sylvain</em>.” </p><p>He beams, leaving me to chuckle as he walks away. </p><p>Immediately, Mercie sits down in his seat. “You look much better than before! But still, whereabouts is the wound, Amira?”</p><p>“I cleaned it and drank the little bit of vulnerary I had, so it’s better, but needs to be closed up.” I place her hand over where it is, and watch her hand briefly glow white and feel warm before returning to normal. </p><p>I press my hand around where the wound was. “It’s healed! Thank you, Mercie.” </p><p>“Of course,” she nudges me, “just come straight to me next time.”</p><p>Grimacing, I say, “If they’re minor, of course. To be honest, if my clothes are ripped, well, it’ll be the same as today.”</p><p>She pats my knee. “Fights are unpredictable, there might be a day when you don’t have a choice.”</p><p>“Well, I train as much as I do so that won’t happen,” I look at her and nod, “but I’ll keep that in mind.” </p><p>Her forehead crinkles. “Amira, may I ask why you’re hiding your skin?”</p><p>I clear my throat, “That is a story for another day.” I lay my hand over hers and squeeze before pulling it back, so she understands I’m not dismissing continuing a conversation.</p><p>I lean my elbows on my knees, my hands hanging between them, and look across the campfire to see Sylvain chatting with Felix. The sun has set, so in the dark the fire is flirting with his hair and hugging his laugh lines as he throws his head back, like the fire knows they belong together. Under my scarf, I wet my lips.</p><p>Mercie seems to follow my line of sight, “He kept an eye on you today.”</p><p>I sit up straight, “I guess. Sylvain definitely surprised me.”</p><p>Her eyes twinkle, "Finally using his first name now? Or was that a slip up?”</p><p>“Ahh, yeah. I hadn’t realized I’ve, apparently, never really used it? Anyway, I don’t know, I just feel like I saw a glimpse of who he really is.” I chuckle, “Does that make sense?”</p><p>Her kind eyes extend to her smile, “It does.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Recognize the in-game dialogue from Sylvain??  As a writing exercise I like to take lines from the game and write out how I think Amira would react. I just find Sylvain’s ‘fate’ line fucking hilarious, and it builds their relationship a little so I included it... but mostly it's just funny to me.</p><p>Hope you liked this chapter : -)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Deer.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Amira has 'supports' with each Golden Deer. :-)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Harpstring Moon. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Claude</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Light glides across the grass as the sun rises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My strides transition from the clunk of pavement to smooth, dewy grass easily. Not far from me, there’s a large tree on the edge of this particular courtyard that overlooks the valley below Garreg Mach. And today, like the past few days, there’s a figure sitting under it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To fill my time between bathing and class, I’ve been going on early morning runs, which has been nice. The monastery is quiet, and I’m able to soak in the beauty without distractions. Recently, I’ve noticed someone else sharing the same sentiment, and this morning I allow curiosity to get the best of me. As I jog closer, I smirk upon realizing who it is and cough- hoping not to startle him. He looks over his shoulder at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Flash! Glad to see you decided to join me this morning. Please, sit,” Claude moves over, allowing me space on the blanket he’s sitting on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I plop down. “Ah, so you’ve seen me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so quiet this time of day, it’s easy to hear your feet on the concrete.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod. That makes sense. “So, what are you doing up so early?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meditate every morning and evening! It’s a nice way to begin and end a day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, of course, I should’ve known,” I look around us, making sure we’re alone. “I’m glad you have ways to stay connected to Almyra while you’re here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claude’s eyes widen with surprise. “How much do you know about Almyran culture?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>A little,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” I say in Almyran, making his jaw drop. I continue in Fódlanese, “I was raised by travelling merchants. Four groups travelling together, each an expert in their unique craft. When we go to Fódlan’s Throat, we have connections to get us into the capital, Parumira, and sell for two months, then come back the next year.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brows knit together. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Really?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Two months? And they never gave you trouble for being from Fódlan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head. “Not that I know of. My aunts and uncles have had relationships with Almyran merchants since before I was born. I only have fond memories.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claude smiles, seemingly happy, except for a twinge of sadness in his eyes. “That’s a very different experience from what I had. That’s… beautiful, is what that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I tilt my head. “Different? What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rubs his hands together. “Eh, let’s just say I didn’t have a cushy life. My mother and I were considered outsiders, and treated like shit for it. There were many attempts on my life, so I largely stayed in my home. Most of my childhood was spent doing what I needed to do to survive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stare at him, appalled. “I’m sorry, did you say… </span>
  <em>
    <span>attempts on your life?</span>
  </em>
  <span> And why your mother, too? Is she from Fódlan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grins solemnly. “Yeah, I know- it’s wild. Almyrans see Fódlaners as cowards, well, most of them, anyway...” He winks at me, “and my mother being from Fódlan isn’t a secret, so I’m a little surprised you haven’t heard that. She’s the daughter of the current Duke of the Alliance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooooh, ok… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” I slap a hand to my forehead. “I heard the Duke’s son died… so, that was your Uncle?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claude nods. “Yup. Which is how I’m next in line, and why Almyrans hate me… But I’m getting ahead of myself, my childhood wasn’t all bad. I had a good tutor, and I’m close with my combat instructor. My parents made sure I was smart and tough- although they did have funny ways of teaching me… whenever I was being a little shit, my dad would tie me to a horse and drag me around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I jerk my head back.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waves his hand dismissively. “Sounds worse than it was, there’s a trick to it. Anyway,” he nudges me and smiles. “Please tell me more about your times in Almyra. What would you do for that long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking away from him, I watch the sun rising higher in the morning sky. I love Almyra, I’ve only seen it as a beautiful, welcoming place. The fact that Claude grew up there and had </span>
  <em>
    <span>attempts on his life </span>
  </em>
  <span>for being half Fódlanese? </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s… awful. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I start picking at my cuticles and jiggling a leg, uncomfortable at what to say next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claude sighs at my hesitation. “I’m not lying when I say I’m happy to hear that you, as someone from Fódlan, has fond memories there. I have a dream for the future- to see the borders being erased, and coming together with respect and appreciation. Love, even. I have big dreams, Amira. Which is why I’m keeping this half of myself a secret, I have a vision of what needs to be done to achieve it, and my parents support it, hoping it’ll happen, too. The fact that you clearly love my country means a lot to me. Please, tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, I give in. How can I resist those large, emerald eyes? The sincerity of him telling me his dream? The hope behind his ‘please’? The gentle curves in his plump lips as he smiles?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I launch into telling him how nearly every night, the streets of Parumira become something like a little festival. My Aunt Lily and Uncle Eric, musicians and luthiers, insisted all us kids learn to play at least one instrument so we could easily be the life of any party. We’d play, and Almyrans would join in with their own unique instruments. There’d be dancing and delicious food being shared among us, its scrumptious smells mixing in the air with the sounds of laughing, singing, and melodies... so many nights of blissful joy, the music bringing us together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I tell him of how my siblings (clarifying they’re not my blood-related siblings, but what else do I call the children I’ve grown up with?) and I would befriend locals around our age and run around the city when we would finish our chores for the day, which is how I learned to speak Almyran.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a small frown, I say, “I’ll miss going this year, since I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claude smiles and nudges me. “Well, you got me, Flash. Quietly, in this sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking where Claude nudged me, I realize his touch hasn’t bothered me. Maybe it’s the familiarity and love I have for Almyra, or that he’s revealed so much to me, or maybe because there’s something naturally comfortable about him. I don’t know why, but I’m pleased I don’t mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod. “Oh, of course. It’s not my business to tell.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clears his throat, and I notice his expression has transitioned from pleasure at hearing my stories, to a curious glint. “I gotta ask, Flash… now that you’ve heard quite a bit more about me- more than I intended to tell anyone at this point, to be honest… care to tell me about why you wear that scarf? And I’ve noticed you only wear long clothing, as well…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tugging at the ends of my shirt sleeves, I slowly shake my head. “I’ll tell you when, or if, I want to. I appreciate that you know you can trust me, but that doesn’t mean I owe you anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He holds his hands up placatingly. “Fair enough, Flash. A guy just had to try.” He bites his bottom lip playfully, and I’m only a little surprised by the light swoop in my stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nudge my shoulder into his. “Sorry for taking up your meditation time, but may I join you for the rest of it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoots over to give me a little more space on the blanket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I cross my legs, close my eyes, and we breathe together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Lorenz </b>
</p><p>
  <span>As I walk down the garden path, I glide my hands through some soft dill weed. The hardness of the stems allows me to pick a couple of the dill needles and bring them to my nose, inhaling the buttery, grassy aroma. Popping them in my mouth, I rub them over my tongue and enjoy the flavor as it freshens my breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind the greenhouse lives my favorite garden in Garreg Mach Monastery. It’s home to the largest variety of flowers and plants across all Fódlan. I’m also pleasantly surprised to see some from Sreng and Almyra as well. I’m not sure how many people know this, because none of the flowers are labelled. This was definitely done intentionally, since Fódlan’s relationship with those countries are, unfortunately, very problematic. Most people seem to not care what they are, content to enjoy how the rainbow of colors make their eyes dance across the grounds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I may be one of the few people who knows what breed most of these flowers are, since among the students here, I’m the most travelled. It’s why I love this garden so much. It transports me to all the places I’ve been with my family. My mother loved flowers, especially the ones in Duscur and Almyra. Even though my heart pangs, I smile, imagining her obsessing over this garden. She’d fawn over having all her favorites in one place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nearing the rose section, I’m not surprised to find Lorenz tending them. He wears a silk rose lapel on his uniform, which is always perfectly crisp. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has them ironed every morning. And so far, an observation I’ve made on his character is he picks and chooses what he finds to be helpful, or below him to assist with. I’ve overheard him describe himself as a Noble who feels it’s his duty ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>ease the burdens of the common folk as a natural obligation’.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Cue my eye roll. Sure, Mercie did tell me he’s helped her out before… even though he never looked at her in the eye. There’s always more to uncover about a person… </span>
  <em>
    <span>but still</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I think he’s a pretentious fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a stupid fucking haircut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m sure to use my friendly voice as I approach him. “Needed more roses, Lorenz?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He promptly turns, placing one hand on his hip, the other holding a yellow rose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Amira. You’re well, I hope?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am doing well, thank you. I’m glad to see you’re enjoying this beautiful day by taking the opportunity to gather more roses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why yes, they are my favorite flower. The sweet, extravagant fragrance, the delicate petals, and the way each color holds different meanings. Red for love and romance, pink for gratitude and grace, yellow for friendship…” he smells the yellow rose before laying it down on the bundle he has gathered so far. “One day, when I feel I’ve met my future wife, I look forward to giving her a rose as a symbol of my love. Few flowers are as beautiful and meaningful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tilting my head, I consider this for a moment before responding. “Do you know much about the other flowers here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Confusion appears on his face. “There are other worthy flowers, of course. Such as lilies, orchids, and dahlias.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pause, waiting for him to continue. But that’s it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lorenz, have you explored the garden much?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corners of his mouth turn down. “I’ve not found it necessary when the most beautiful flowers are in my vicinity. Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hold a finger up, and walk past him and around the corner, looking for my personal favorite. While Lorenz irritates me to no end, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>care to offer my worldly knowledge, but for some reason... he </span>
  <em>
    <span>reeeeally </span>
  </em>
  <span>makes me want to show off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finding what I’m looking for, I use one of my knives to cut a handful. As I come back, his eyes squint at the bouquet I’m holding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The leaves are wide and dark green, putting the petite, delicate white flowers strewn throughout on display. While the flowers are small, the fragrance is strong, sweet and alluring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lorenz keeps his frown. “What are these? They are so… small.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pull one stem from my bouquet, on the tip sit five of these delicate little flowers. “You enjoy tea, correct?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes widen. “Of course, few things bring me such joy as a perfectly balanced cup of tea. When the flavor, fragrance, and hue are in fine harmony-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s nice</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Anyway, this is royal jasmine. The flowers can be used to make subtly sweet tea, with the most tantalizing smell. Just brew a simple black or green tea, take a couple of these flowers off the stem and drop them in the teapot, let it sit for a day, take the flowers out and reheat your tea. It’s worth the effort.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lorenz is about to say something, but I continue, “You also talked about the different things roses can symbolize. Well, all flowers hold meanings depending where you are. Royal jasmine has multiple. They are known to represent pure beauty, love and affection, spiritual illumination, and even-” I had the stem to him, he takes it, “-friendship.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyebrows knit together. “A woman wouldn’t find those as grand a gesture as even a single rose would!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I click my tongue. “Lorenz, </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>knows roses symbolize love. They are gorgeous, yes, but popular. You give your intended a bouquet, or even just one of these, and describe how she is rare like the royal jasmine, in its pure beauty, affection and grace… you consider yourself a wordsmith, does that not paint a romantic picture?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll admit, the notion is romantic…” He narrows his eyes. “I am curious. You’re a commoner, how are you so educated on a rare flower?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes every bit of effort I possess to keep my eyes from rolling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I grew up with travelling merchants. I’ve been all over the country, how much of it have you seen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That face, with the stupid fucking haircut, shifts from curious to frustrated in a second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardon me, but I have responsibility to Leicester Alliance alone. Why waste my time travelling outside of it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I cock an eyebrow. “That, Lorenz, is for you to figure out, not me to explain to someone uninterested in the answer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I give him a few more stems and put on my friendly tone again. “I was serious about the delicious cup of tea these make, please give it a try and tell me what you think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until his eyes flicker to meet mine, I realize Mercie was correct in her observation about his reluctance to make eye contact with commoners.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for the suggestion, I will give it a try.” As he holds eye contact, his head slightly moves back, like he’s surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, Amira. If you let your hair down, I’m sure that would appeal to many men, even with your face covering. Your dark hair would accent those bright eyes of yours.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, uh... </span>
  <em>
    <span>thanks</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Lorenz...” Under my breath I mumble, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Get a haircut</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I tilt my head. “What?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes narrow. “What did you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, huh. I could have sworn you said something else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head. “Sure didn’t. Well,” I wave, “enjoy the jasmine. See you around, Lorenz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Until next time, Amira.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turn on my heels and make my way out of the garden.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pretentious fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Raphael.</b>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Long shadows cast in front of us on the training mat. It’s laughable, even though mine makes me look much taller than normal, Raphael’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally </span>
  </em>
  <span>makes him look like the boulder he is. By taking a couple steps towards me, his shadow swallows mine up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the past four hours, at my request, Raphael has been training me, trying to figure out ways a “tiny person” </span>
  <em>
    <span>(me) </span>
  </em>
  <span>could get out of difficult grappling moves made by a bigger man </span>
  <em>
    <span>(no clarity needed)</span>
  </em>
  <span>... which is a skill I wish I had four years ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luckily, Raph is like Claude in the way that I instinctively trust him. Raphael is a mountain of a man, and if someone never heard him speak, it would be easy to be intimidated by him. But he talks loudly and often, and it doesn’t take long to learn his heart is as big as his calf muscles. What also helped a bit was Leonie joining us for a while. At first she and I ran through some moves together, until she had to do kitchen duty. But so far, Raph has been nothing but respectful, always describing what move we’re going to work on and checking if it’s ok. Very intuitive and thoughtful of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of his heavy hands thuds onto my sore shoulder, making me wince.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to strengthen your core! You are strong for a tiny person, don’t get me wrong, but it’s affecting your ability to get out of certain moves. So, I am going to give you some good, muscle building advice! When you run, start carrying rocks!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s hot. I’m tired. I’m sore. There’s no way he just suggested I run with… rocks.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, what?” I wipe the pool of sweat off my forehead and my eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face brightens up. “I know! I can show you! I’ll be right back!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can run pretty fast for such an enormous man. It doesn’t take long for him to return, and when he does, he has ropes slung over his shoulder with large bags tied at each end. They seem to be filled with rocks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My jaw drops behind my scarf. “Uhhhh, you’re not going to make me try to carry those, are you?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raph throws his head back and laughs, “Absolutely not! You’ll want much smaller bags. I’ll help you make them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I narrow my eyes. “Soo... how does this help me strengthen my core, specifically?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By running with weight, you have to work harder on your posture, which takes core strength. Trust me, it works.” He drops the bags and unbuttons his shirt to show me his abs. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Glorious, 8 pack abs.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Realizing my eyes have grown to the size of tea saucers, I shake my head to snap out of it. “Goddess, Raphael. You can’t just do that to a person without warning!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His laugh echoes in the grounds again as he struggles to re-button his shirt. He could have shirts tailor made to fit him, but for an extra fee. So he calls it good enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one complains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are students here who know how to sew. But as far as I know, no one has offered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s fine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Juuuust fiiine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I think it’s time to replenish our nutrients and go eat! C’mon, Amira! I hear there’s sausage in the dining hall! Let’s fill yuh up with some!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now my laughter echoes across the grounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t get why.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Leonie</b>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just outside Garreg Mach grounds, the redwood trees glow as the rising sun yawns through them and onto Lee, Petra, Raphael, and I as we rub dirt and moss on our clothes and arms. Experienced hunters know things novices wouldn’t, such as how humans have a distinct smell. By rubbing dirt, moss, or animal feces (if we find some) on ourselves, our human smell is blunted, making it harder for animals to know we’re coming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While it might not be necessary for us to do this since Garreg Mach has plenty of ways to keep food stocks full, we enjoy using our skills as training to keep sharp. Plus, the cooks always welcome fresh game. I believe they also sell the pelts to earn some extra money, so we’re happy to oblige... and from time to time they slip me an extra sweet bun. Win-win.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While we’d prefer to split up and venture into the woods on our own, the only condition Byleth had is for us to stay in pairs. It’s entirely possible for bandits to come upon us, so for safety we’re told to always be with someone. Petra and Raphael veer to the left as Lee and I go to the right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few hours later, we have collected enough rabbits and birds to call it a day. As we head back in the direction of the monastery, Lee is telling me more about Sauin, the village she grew up in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It might just be a small hunting village, but when poachers came to hunt on our territory, someone had hired mercenaries to help get rid of them. That’s-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-</span>
  <em>
    <span>how you met Captain Jeralt and became his worthy apprentice.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You’ve told me that part a million times. Just admit it, you think the Professor’s dad is hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mouth drops open and she kicks at my leg, but I easily move out of the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off, Blackwood!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, Pinelli! I don’t blame you, he’s super hot. Just want to take that braid and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I duck under a high kick, just missing my face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“OK, OK!” I’m laughing hard, especially since Lee’s face is so serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He just meant a lot to my life, ok? If it wasn’t for him believing in my abilities, I would not have had the drive to come here and be better for my village. My village respected him. Between that and seeing how hard I was working, they were willing to help gather money and write to a nearby noble to partially sponsor me. Captain Jeralt basically changed my life.” She’s staring ahead through the trees, frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hum in contemplation, then shift my tone from playful to understanding. “Having even one adult to care about your wellbeing makes a big difference. I respect that, Lee. Sorry for teasing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scowls. “You’re going to do it again, aren't you?” Lee says, her voice dripping with annoyance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha, ha! Of course I am! But right now, I’ll move on. Let’s talk about training.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flashes a bright smile. “Oh, thank Goddess. You’ve been sword fighting with Felix and the Professor so often I haven’t seen you practice bow in a while. Tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. Right after breakfast?” I smirk and read her face. As I expect, her lips purse in thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Umm, I was thinking later. After lunch?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hum. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Interesting</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lee stops in her tracks, narrowing her eyes at me. “What’s interesting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling mischievous, I say, “Ooh, it’s just you used to train in the morning...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Soo…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She drawls, starting to walk again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now you’re training in the afternoon... when you used to like getting chores done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lets out a frustrated sigh. “Fuck’s sake, Amira, get to the point!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Raphael trains every day after lunch, without fail. He’s the only one who consistently trains at that time and now you do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lee scoffs. “Are you trying to say I might have a crush on him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I laugh. “I’m saying you </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely </span>
  </em>
  <span>do. Raph is a really good guy, it’s adorable. Ouch!” This time she uses her body to slam me into a tree, almost making me drop some birds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember noble move-in day? When I said if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>pull setting up shit on me, that I’d kick your ass?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a sing-song voice, I chime, “But you’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>denying iiiit!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I run away from her to the edge of the forest, where Raphael and Petra are just walking up to meet us.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raphael is carrying a buck over his shoulder, Petra with many birds and squirrels. Pleased with our large collection today, we start heading back to Garreg Mach. Lee is walking next to Raphael, who is recounting killing the buck, when I look at Petra. “Ah shit, I think I dropped a dagger back there. Petra, will you come with me to find it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles. “Yes, I will come with you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want us to wait for yuh?” Raphael booms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head. “No! You and Leonie go on ahead, we’ll be right behind you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods and walks ahead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lee is glaring at me. I can practically hear her asking, </span>
  <em>
    <span>did you do that on purpose?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I just wink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>***</b>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Ignatz </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Amira! I’m glad you’re here. And hello to you as well, Professor Jeritza.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The combat instructor, Jeritza, just swept the floor with me. Literally, he took his lance and knocked my feet out from under me. I’ve never worked with a lance, so when I showed up to the training grounds and saw just Professor Jeritza was there, I thought he’d be willing to teach me so I didn’t have to bother any of my Lions. I was wrong, he just attacked me. ‘Learn by doing’, I think he said before pouncing. I had just stood up and was dusting myself off when Ignatz had his timely arrival. Jeritza nods at us before moving to train on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wipe my sweaty brow with my sleeve. “Hey, Ignatz. How are yuh today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shyly looks down at his shoes. “Oh, I’m good, thank you. I have an awkward favor to ask of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I raise my eyebrows. “Oh, alright. What can I help you with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, well, you might know I’ve been asking D1’s if I can paint a portrait of them training as a way to improve my painting techniques. They can also keep the portrait if they want to, or not! Anyway, I was wondering if I could paint a portrait of you? If it’s ok, you can say no, it will take a few hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shrug. “Sure, why not? I have no other plans today. Should I bring my sword or a bow?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignatz shuffles his feet. “Actually, I was hoping to do a different portrait of you. Would you please come with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Intrigued, I put the training lance away and follow him. He takes me to one of the many little flower gardens on the edge of the monastery and motions for me to sit on the bench in front of the blue hydrangea bushes. He already has his supplies set up- a canvas, easel and paints.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sit down on the bench. “Did you know I was going to say yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignatz walks over to the hydrangea bush and picks three of the flowers. He chuckles, “Oh, no. I was going to paint the flowers when I had an idea and looked for you.” He hands me the flowers and smiles kindly. “Amira, are you ok with letting your hair down? Or does that make you uncomfortable?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, um, I can let my hair down…” I yank at my hair tie, letting my long locks flow down my back. “...but I’m not taking my scarf off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes widen in shock. “Oh, no! I promise I wasn’t going to ask that of you. May I touch your hair?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m confused, but I nod yes. I focus on staying still and taking calm breaths. While I’m a bit nervous, I’m feeling proud of myself. I think about Claude’s nudge, permitting Raph to teach me grappling, staying calm as Ignatz’s hands move around my face… There are just so many kind people here. Plus, Ignatz reminds me of my ‘brother’ Robin. Kind, gentle souls. Carefully, he moves my hair around, bringing it forward over my shoulders. He takes a step back to look and beams at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect. Now, if you could hold the flowers like this,” he arranges them in line, instead of bundled, “...and hold them in front of your scarf… a little lower…  excellent.” Ignatz steps behind his easel and picks up a brush. “If you could just stay like that for a while, and keep your eyes on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I do what I’m told and stay still. It’s taking a long time though, and especially since he found me after training with Jeritza, my arms are really sore, I’m starting to shake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles. “I finished the flowers, you can rest your arms, Amira. But besides that if you could stay still for a little longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I keep my arms in my lap, and eventually I feel my body go numb and space out. The sun is much lower in the sky when he puts the brush down. “Thank you for sitting, Amira. I appreciate it. I’ll be spending more time on this before I let you see it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Placing the flowers on the bench, I stand up and stretch the stiffness away. “My pleasure, Ignatz. I look forward to seeing it.” I walk toward him. “Can I take a little peak?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wags a finger at me. “Oh, absolutely not. I ask you not to glance at it until I’m finished.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I bob my head. “Fine, I promise I won’t! But it’s likely dinner time, and the sun’s getting lower. I can wait for you to pack up, then we can eat together?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blushes. “Oh, no. Please don’t wait for me. I’m going to use what light I have left.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. See you later, then!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few days later, I’m in the dining hall, sitting at the end of a bench and eating lunch with the Lions and Claude when Ignatz finds me, holding a canvas in his hands, the back facing me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Amira. I’ve finished the painting. May I show you?” His voice is calm, but his eyes are bright with anticipation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, another portrait, Igz?” Claude asks, turning to face the painter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I hope it’s with your sword! It was amazing how powerful he made me look with my lance.” Ingrid leans forward over the table to get a better view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignatz smiles, “Not quite. I heard Amira talking to you earlier in the week, Ingrid.” He looks at me, “And you made a casual comment about not thinking you’re pretty. So, I wanted to make this for you.” He blushes, then turns the painting around and I gasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s… </span>
  <em>
    <span>lovely</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The background is watercolor, the various greens softly blending in harmony, my black hair a stark contrast. The blue hydrangeas replace my mask, highlighting my sky blue eyes. Winding down from the stems, around my hands and body are vines, the painting ending at my hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone starts praising it immediately, Claude exclaiming- “that’s my Deer for yuh, a proper gentleman!” Making Ignatz blush even more, but he’s just watching me take the painting in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stand up and take it from him, staring at it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He did this because he wanted me to feel pretty? All this work, for someone he barely knows? </span>
  </em>
  <span>A comforting, warm feeling runs through me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s something Robin would do. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I think of Lily and Eric’s oldest son and how he would sing me songs with his guitar during my more grief-ridden days. Gentle, kind, thoughtful, and loving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Putting in extra effort to not let tears well in my eyes, I look at Ignatz.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is really kind of you, Ignatz. It’s beautiful.” I crinkle my eyes at him, hoping he understands I’m smiling. “Can… can I give you a hug?” I ask, slightly nervous. He looks surprised, but nods and I wrap one arm around him, squeezing briefly before taking my arm back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking back down at the painting, I chuckle. “I’m going to put this in my room now, and I think I'll stare at it for a while.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain sighs dramatically. “Oh, I get it. I call you pretty all the time and you tell me to shut up, then Ignatz does it once and you not just believe him, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>give him a hug</span>
  </em>
  <span>? You! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hugging!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing, I just roll my eyes at Sylvain. Using one hand to put my tray away, I walk out the dining hall with Ignatz, who’s explaining to me his painting process and technique. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Lysithea </b>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing up from the book I was reading on battalion leadership, I see my short, white-haired neighbor is standing in my doorway, arms folded, glaring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Lysithea. How can I help you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolls her eyes. “Look at the state of this room! Are you even getting anything done in this mess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look around. It’s definitely a little wild right now, with books and paper strewn everywhere. But Byleth has a test for us tomorrow, so I’m cramming. “Yeah, getting plenty done. Might look a mess to you, but if there’s something I'm looking for, I know exactly where it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lysithea shakes her head. “You need to get it together. You’re acting like a sloppy, incapable baby! So immature to be disorganized like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyebrows nearly blend into my hairline. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That escalated quickly.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Are you ok? Is there something you need?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stomps her foot. “Don’t ask me if I need anything like I’m the child who can’t keep a tidy room! At least close the door if you’re going to be like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I keep my voice calm. “I’m not the one shouting about a few books on the floor and stomping my foot when not getting their way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhg! I just have to walk by this mess! You even have drawings of ugly men on your desk, what the heck is that about?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My heart stops. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, the drawings. I can’t believe I forgot to put them away! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just working on my drawing skills, is all.” I say as calmly as possible, not wanting to draw more attention than necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, practice harder, because they look terrible. Weirdly specific… why did you make one have two different eye colors?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, of all times, is when my brain goes blank. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Damnit Lys, just fucking drop it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I swallow the pool of spit that puddled in my mouth and keep my breath even. “I don’t know, they’re just doodles.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever! You’re so weird!  Can’t you do anything relatively normal?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Alright, I need to change the situation immediately. Lys is just getting more wound up, and clearly something is troubling her that has nothing to do with my room. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lys being the youngest one here, I know she works herself to the bone. Seeing the dark circles under her eyes, I put together that she must be exhausted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My big sister mode turns on, and putting my book down, I stand and walk to my door, looking down at her. The stubborn way she’s glaring at me sparks familiarity. “I just realized you remind me a little of one of my sisters, well… technically we’re not blood related, but close enough. Anyway, you remind me of Samantha is all. She’s very smart, stubborn and decisive, too.” I smile softly. “You know, you’re always welcome to come have tea with me to just chat, ask for help, vent, whatever you need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have time for things like that...” Her tone is no longer angry and her body relaxes, her arms now resting at her sides. I hear her tummy faintly rumble, and remember her mentioning one time that she likes cake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. If you ever find yourself with the time, I’ll be here... But you know, I need to eat dinner, anyway. And Annie is on dessert duty...” I see Lysithea’s face light up a little. “Join me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like Samantha does when she’s stubborn but interested, I see her weighing her options.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I step outside and as I’m closing the door, I glance at my desk and feel phantom prickles on my scars. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That was closer than I’d like. I need to be more careful. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I shut the door and shake it from my mind as Lys and I chat about the best desserts on our way to the dining hall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Hilda </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amira, right?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look over my shoulder from my spot on the fishing dock to see a short, busty, pink haired girl sauntering toward me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s me. Sorry, I’ve seen you around but haven’t caught your name yet. You’re a Deer, right?” I swish my toes in water as she approaches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’m Hilda Goneril! Nice to meet you. So, here’s the thing- actually, wait…” Her nose crinkles as she notices my bare toes dangling in the pond. “You’re not fishing, why are you sitting here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shrug. “I find it peaceful to watch the fish swim around in the pond. Know what I mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hilda clicks her tongue. “Can’t say I do. When I’m relaxing, I either look at something pretty, or the darkness of my eyelids.” She huffs, “Are you getting up soon? I have a question for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyes widen at the abruptness, and I smack my lips. “Uhh, well how about you ask the question first?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes focus on my scarf as she sighs. “I don’t normally help people. Way too exhausting. But I don’t know, I just feel there’s a need here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I raise my brows. “Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her pink eyes go round, and she shakes her hands in front of her.  “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to sound rude! I mean you have all these black scarves and black clothes, I rarely see any color! Just so one dimensional!” She exhales sharply as she notices my brows move closer to my hairline. “What I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying to say</span>
  </em>
  <span> is I make accessories! I like doing it, especially for people who might appreciate it. I’d like to make you something to add some color! Like, just let me borrow one of your scarves!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hum in thought as I swish my toes in the water one more time before swinging my feet back to the dock. I start pulling my socks onto my wet feet. “You just met me, why do you feel inclined to do something like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hilda lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. “I’ve seen the way you glance at the other girls wearing makeup, earrings or a necklace or stuff like that, and noticed you don’t wear any. And I heard about how much you liked the painting Ignatz made for you, so I thought maybe I could decorate one of your scarves or make you something, if you’d like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I finish tying my shoes and stand up, looking down at her with a curious glint in my eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s very… perceptive of you.” I crinkle my eyes so she knows I’m smiling. “Sure, why not. My dorm is just over there, I’ll grab you an extra one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hilda’s face lights up. “Oh, good! You’ll love it!   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hilda walks with me from the fishing pond to my dorm, a slight bounce in her step. “So, you and Claude are becoming friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I scratch the back of my neck. “Yeah, guess so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hilda starts toying with a lock of her hair. “He tells me you two study in the library together a lot...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I chuckle awkwardly. “Heh, I mean we end up studying there at the same time, yeah.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>What is she trying to get at, here?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Late at night… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just </span>
  </em>
  <span>the two of you.” She asks with a feign tone of innocence, holding out her hand to look at her nails, like that’s going to fool me into thinking she doesn’t care one way or another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a direct question for me, Hilda?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s nothing. I was just curious if there’s anything else to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We reach my room, and she stands at the open door as I open a drawer and pull out a clean black scarf. I whirl around and hand it to her. “We’re just two people studying together…” I tilt my head. “Do you like him, or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her sudden and sharp burst of laughter makes me take a step back. It’s a shrill but contagious laugh, and without fully understanding why, I’m chuckling with her until she finally gains some composure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, it’s just, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> not into him like that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anyway</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She backs away from my door and jerks her head. “Come to my dorm with me, I want you to look at the materials I have so you can tell me what you like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I follow her up the stairs leading to the second floor dorms, her room only the third one down. Besides having little vases of flowers everywhere, along her long dresser on the back wall she has stacks of books, and multiple boxes of craft supplies. Hilda pushes one of the little boxes in front of me. Opening it, I see an incredible amount of tiny beads in many different colors, sparkling in the light of her room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hilda smiles upon seeing my eyes light up. “What colors are your favorite?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re all so pretty… umm… I like these silver beads, all the blues, purples… I mean, at this point I’ll just let you go for it and see what happens.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking around her counter, I see other projects she’s working on, a brooch in particular catching my eye. It’s in the shape of a horse head, made of silver beads except the mane, which is pastel blue with a couple little white flower beads. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pick it up to give it a closer look. “This is really pretty. These blue beads remind me of the color of the girl’s hair in your class-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-Marianne.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I glance down at her and am thrilled to see a blush, red like a rose, creep on her cheeks. Then what replays in my mind are her laughter followed by what she said only a few minutes ago- </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I am </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> not into him…’ </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oooh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Marianne</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” I repeat playfully. “I’ve seen her at the stables, I know she likes horses. Is this for her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The red on Hilda’s cheeks deepen. “Mari’s always down on herself- she thinks she’s bad luck! But she’s not, it’s just silly. I thought I’d make her this as a sort of good luck charm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I set the brooch gently on the counter. “That’s really thoughtful of you, I bet she’ll love it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hilda waves her hand at me, “Oh it’s nothing, don’t embarrass me. Anyway, thanks for the extra scarf. Don’t expect anything anytime soon, I take my time with things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I give her a thumbs up. “Sounds good. I look forward to seeing whatever you create!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few days later, there’s a knock on my door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One sec!” I call, tying my scarf on as I move to the door. Opening it, I find my new pink pig-tailed friend, holding neatly folded black material.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hilda pushes it into my hands. “Here you are! Tell me what you think!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As I unfold it, I look at her in surprise. “I thought you said to not expect this soon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugs half-heartedly. “I just say stuff like that just in case it does take a long time. But this was fun to make!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joy sparks inside me at the sight. Hilda has weaved sparkly, dark blue, purple and silver beads into a pretty floral pattern on the entire scarf. The aesthetic is much nicer than I expected. “Oh, wow, Hilda. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thank you! Give me a sec, I’ll put it on.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Closing the door on her, I switch out the scarfs. When I open it again, excitement spreads across Hilda’s face. “Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> isn’t one-dimensional!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I snort, “I don’t think that sounds as nice as you think it does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hilda smirks, “It looks nice. I hope you wear it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding my head, I say, “Probably for hanging out on weekends. I don’t think this will be conducive to all the training I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolls her eyes, “Oh that’s right, you’re one of those ‘train-all-the-time’ people. I hope you take a nap every once in a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! Weekends have dedicated nap times, promise. Thanks again, Hilda. I appreciate you making this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hilda smiles and gives me a little wave before heading down the stairs. Closing the door, I move to look in the mirror and smile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It really does look nice</span>
  </em>
  <span>… Gratitude swelling inside me, I take the scarf off and lay it on the desk next to my study materials, occasionally glancing at it and smiling again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>***</b>
  <b></b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Marianne </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a warm spring afternoon. Few wisps of white clouds in the sky, a breeze making the loose strands of my ponytail float wildly. I scan the ancient redwood forests on my right, look ahead at the green meadows and dirt paths leading off to different towns, and to my left at the grand monastery, home at the base of the Oghma Mountains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today, I signed up for patrol duty. Not only do I take any opportunity to ride Missy, but I saw Marianne sign up to work this shift, and I haven’t gotten a chance to speak to her yet. She seems like a meek and kind person, and once I saw Hilda blush at the mention of her, my curiosity took over from there. Should I stay out of people's love lives? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Probably.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But do I choose to stop myself? </span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mari’s horse, Dorte, resides three stalls down from mine, so we didn’t get a chance to chat while grooming our horses like I hoped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We’ve patrolled halfway around the monastery now, so I look over my shoulder and realize she’s quite a few feet away from me. I gently pull on the reins and wait for Mari to catch up. My brows draw together and a twinge of anxiety courses through me as her lips press together in a tight line, and a look of… is that </span>
  <em>
    <span>fear</span>
  </em>
  <span>?... flashes in her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little faltered by her expression, I say a little more awkwardly then intended, “So, er, Marianne… uh, hi! Umm, how are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lightly nods her head. “Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pause, hoping she’ll offer more… but she doesn’t. “It’s a nice day we’re having, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mari just nods again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratching the back of my head, I try again. “So… I’ve seen how great you are with horses. All animals, for that matter. Did you, uh, grow up with horses?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stays still and silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn, she’s tough.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I clear my throat. “So...do you think you want to work at an animal clinic after gradu-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-I’m sorry, but you should stay away from me.” Mari says firmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hurt strikes through me. Mari has always seemed nice. Down on herself, sure, but at least sweet to others. “Oh, ok… Look, I know I frighten Bernadetta, but that girl is scared of everything. I’m sorry I apparently scare you, too... I promise I’m nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mari shakes her head vigorously, clearly upset. “No! I didn’t mean like that! I’m the one you should stay away from, I bring misfortune to everyone I meet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting. “What do you mean, ‘misfortune’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She says nothing, her gaze locked on the pommel of her saddle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eye catches the glint of a brooch attached to her uniform, and I relax a bit, remembering what Hilda said about Mari. “But you have a good luck charm pinned on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mari blushes. “It was thoughtful of Hilda to make it, but she shouldn’t have gone out of her way. It won’t help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hum, contemplating how to respond to her. “Ok, Mari. So, you think you bring misfortune?” She nods. “Well, you’re talking to someone who wears a scarf on her face all the time. My misfortune already happened, back when I didn’t know you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it could be worse-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-no, it can’t. Believe me, there’s nothing knowing you can possibly do to make my life worse. Plus,” I gesture to Dorte, “you know about animals. Would you say they’re intuitive about people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand gently reaches out as she strokes Dorte’s neck. “Yes, I agree.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Animals love you, are drawn to you, in fact. I saw you tending to a bird with a broken wing earlier this month, and I’ve seen how excited the horses are to see you. Animals love good people. So, I feel like that’s all the evidence you need, really, to prove you’re not bad luck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A haunted look glazes her eyes. “I’m sorry, but I don’t agree. I’m cursed with this burden, I shall leave you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-wait! Just… ok, how about we ride silently together?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mari’s frown deepens. She prompts Dorte to trot a little ahead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not exactly what I meant, but at least she didn’t leave, I guess.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello! I thought it’d be fun to have Amira be introduced to each character through little slices of life vignettes/supports like the game :-)</p><p>Comments welcome &lt;3 TY! </p><p>Oh, and my profile is art by @natendo_art (twitter &amp; insta), and is a *stunning* interpretation I commissioned of Amira! Here's a link to my tweet if you want to see the picture: https://twitter.com/HiStacyHere/status/1357391223988756480?s=20</p><p> </p><p>I also commissioned @rosentraume for a sketch bust of Amira, and it's so beautiful. I love supporting artists!! &lt;3<br/>https://twitter.com/HiStacyHere/status/1358819281060859905?s=20</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Hot & Cool</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Claude being sweet and earning Amira's trust.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Harpstring Moon.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>What I need is some fresh air.</p><p>Wanting to take a break from studying in my room, I make my way to the dining hall to grab a snack. The sun's out and there’s a light breeze- the first day of perfect weather we’ve had for the month we’ve been here, in my opinion. Maybe I’ll move my chair onto the patio and read there when I get back. </p><p>Strolling through the dining room doors, I take a sweet bun and glance around to see if any of my classmates are here. Not seeing anyone inside, I head out toward the stairs that lead to the fishing pond to find Claude climbing up them, and joy bubbles up in me.</p><p>Claude makes a point to say hi to me every day, which is easy since we’ve been running into each other in the library, and inevitably studying together. He is really good company, makes me laugh, and is skilled at reframing information if I’m not understanding something, especially with tactics homework. Claude has only asked about my mask one other time, and I firmly reminded him I <em> might </em>tell him when I’m ready. He hasn’t asked since. </p><p>I’m about to say hello, when from behind me someone yells, “Take your mask off, FREAK!” Then scalding water splashes on my face, soaking my scarf and collar. I drop my snack and swear loudly, bending over and untucking my scarf from my collar. I slip my hands under it to hold my face, completely freezing on what to do now. </p><p>I hear Claude scream, “What the fuck is wrong with you?! GET AWAY FROM HER!” Something is thrown over my head. “Here’s my cape, Amira. Take your scarf off, I’ll walk you back to your room. Damn that fucking asshole. Are you ok?”</p><p>Quickly, I untie my scarf and open my collar, too shocked to reply. I’m waving my hand over the burn to attempt to cool it down, silently grateful he is here.</p><p>He opens my door and guides me inside, closing it behind us. Being able to see the floor, I go sit on my bed.</p><p>“Amira, want me to wet a washcloth for you?”</p><p>“Yes.” I whimper out, tears welling in my eyes as I process what just happened. <em> What the fuck? </em>  Worse has happened to me, of course, but this is different. I was starting to feel welcome here... </p><p>His hand moves under the cape, holding out a wet washcloth. </p><p>“Thank you.” Taking it, the cool cloth soothes the pain as I press it against my face and down my neck. At least the burn isn’t on the scar side of my face. Still sucks though. However, his cape is warm, which doesn’t help my attempt to cool down.</p><p>I speak quietly. “Claude? I need to take the cape off. Can you look away, please?” </p><p>“Of course.” My desk chair briefly scrapes along the floor, and a light thud tells me he’s sitting down. I slowly look up, and seeing his back is to me, I lay his cape next to me.</p><p>After a few moments of silence as I move the washcloth to continue cooling me down, he gently asks, “Would you like me to get Mercedes? To heal the burn?”</p><p>“Eventually, that would be helpful. I just need a moment.” My throat tightens. “...Thank you for helping me. I really-” </p><p>“-of course. That was… awful. I hate when people are treated that way. It’s fucked up. To actually hurt you...” I see his fists ball tight on my desk. “How is it feeling? Must really hurt.”</p><p>“It stings.” I take a deep breath. “Claude?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I… oh, I don’t know. Never mind.”</p><p>Claude hums, then gently says, “Amira, what is it?” </p><p>Curiosity is dripping in his voice. My heart is pounding, but something inside me wants me to trust him. Claude is the only person who has asked multiple times about my scarf, so indirectly asking about my past. Since after the mock battle, he’s incidentally been who I’ve spent the most time with outside of class, and we’ve become quick friends. He also has secrets of his own, so my gut tells me I can trust him with mine. If Claude responds well… maybe others will? If he doesn’t… I mean, I believe he won’t tell anyone about it. Making my decision, I put the washcloth down and sit up straight. </p><p>I whisper, “Look.”  </p><p>My eyes flicker to the ceiling. In my peripheral vision, I see Claude’s head turn to me. I’m trying to steady my breathing, hold my tears back, and wish my heart would stop pounding. </p><p>When he moves to sit next to me on the bed, I finally look at him. His eyes are full of concern, his brows knit together.  “Amira, may I touch your face?”</p><p>I nod. He slowly moves his left hand toward my cheek, when I instinctually jerk back and grab his wrist.</p><p>“Oh!” I let go. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while since someone other than family has touched my face. Give me a second.”</p><p>He shakes his head. “I don’t have to-”</p><p>“No, it’s fine.” I hold my breath and take his hand, slowly putting it on my cheek for him. He’s still for a moment, then his thumb rubs my scar where it meets the corner of my lip. I exhale, my shoulders dropping.</p><p>Claude takes in the scar, staring before his eyes flicker back to mine. </p><p>He says with a kind firmness, “Amira, you’re beautiful.” </p><p>I shake my head vigorously and stand up, taking a few paces away from him. Tears well in my eyes again. “Please don’t, Claude.”</p><p>Suddenly, his gentle hand is on my shoulder, and he asks softly, “May I give you a hug?” After only a moment of hesitation, I nod. He pulls me in tight, one of his hands on the back of my head, the other rubbing my back. </p><p>“I’m not lying to you. Yes, you have quite the scar. I want to know the story behind it, and hurt whoever did that to you. I’m so sorry it happened. But you’re alive, you’re a survivor. It shows your strength and resolve to live. It doesn’t take away from your beauty, it adds to it.” He lets out a long exhale. “Believe in the people closest to you. I’m confident they will see it the same way I do.”</p><p>“You can’t guarantee that! How many people do you know with slits across their throat and are still alive? What if they fear me? What if <em> they </em>call me a freak? ” </p><p>He releases me, only to grab my shoulders and make me look at him. “Do you honestly think any one of the Lions would say that to you? Especially when you have Teach, who has fought her whole life? I can speak for The Deer, who absolutely would see it as strength.” </p><p>Slightly shaking my head, I step back. “Maybe they’d accept my face. It’s just a little piece of what happened to me.” I jam my hands in my pockets. “I’ll think about what you said, and for now please keep this to yourself?” </p><p>He nods to promise. Starting toward the door he asks, “Would you like me to get Mercedes now?”  </p><p>I go to my dresser and grab a clean scarf, holding it in my hand, I turn to face him. “She’ll be able to heal me over this, so yes, please. And Claude,” He turns to look at me from starting to open the door, and I smile at him. “Thank you.”</p><p>He beams. “It’s nice to see your smile, Flash.”</p><p> </p><p>He walks out, and as soon as the door is shut, I collapse onto my bed and, overwhelmed with gratitude and anxiety, I begin to sob.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I think this is the shortest chapter I have for this entire story!</p><p>Because, btw, currently I have 34 of the projected 41 chapters written and beta'd for Part One. Then Part two is roughly outlined (projected 20 chapters) and a couple of those chapters a bit written out. So as of me writing this note, I have 171,000 words written for this story. Just posting weekly for fun, and to give myself time to write Part Two : -)</p><p>Comments welcome &lt;3</p><p>Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Family.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Getting a glimpse of Amira's life as a travelling merchant &amp; learn a little about her family</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> *Garland Moon, Three Years Ago.* </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The horses' hooves clip-clopped on the cobblestones as I brought them from the stalls to the busy market square. I had to kick a few chickens and a cat out of the way before I could start hitching the horses to the first of our three wagons. With my dirty sleeve, covered in horse hair from grooming and flecked with hay after cleaning the stalls they stayed in, I wiped the sweat off my forehead. The smell of sweat and manure wafted into my nose, making it crinkle in disgust. </p><p>Summer had just arrived, and did so in Rusalka with vengeance. The sun had only been in the sky a few short hours and it was screaming at us. On top of that, I made it difficult on myself by choosing to wear only long sleeves, pants and a scarf on my face while in town. Because of this, the smell coming off me seemed extra potent, sweat leaking instead of beading on my skin. <em> Uhg</em>, <em> I greatly look forward to washing up. </em></p><p>People were bustling to buy products as some vendors wrapped up and put away their wares, including us. Most merchants preferred to stay in one place for months at a time. My family, however, would generally reside in one place for only four weeks or so. Between keeping our stays shorter, and the high-quality products we all made, when we’d arrive in the next town, villagers would recognize and surround us before we could finish setting up our tents. </p><p>Finishing hitching the horses up, I walked toward one of our side tables with a few breakfast items set out. I grabbed a biscuit as my adoptive mother, Margaret, a short, plump, gray haired woman, came around the corner, carrying a basket full of some of her products, neatly wrapped. </p><p>Margaret and her husband, Joseph, were quick to adopt me as their own. They had known my birth parents the longest, had the spare space to let me sleep in their wagon, fuss over me a great deal, and have always been the most protective of the group.</p><p>Quickly noticing that her twins were still standing around the table, slowly picking at their breakfast, her eyes narrowed and her commanding voice made their heads snap toward their mother.</p><p>“Theo! Samantha! Go on and pack the products! Look, Amira is already tending to the horses!” </p><p>“But Momma!” Theo exclaimed, a bit of egg falling out of his mouth.</p><p>“We haven’t finished our breakfast yet!” Samantha whined.</p><p>“Still? Goddess, you two are taking your sweet-ass time this morning. Hurry on up and get right to it! You don’t see Lily’s kids being lazy bones. They’ve already gotten half their items packed! Heck, Patricia’s kids packed their wagon last night and still woke up early to hunt!”</p><p>We knew her tone well. The twins finally shoveled the biscuits into their mouths, and walked over to our table to pack up the wooden toys and sculptures. </p><p>Margaret and Joseph Ebner are master wood carvers. They make the most beautiful sculptures, ranging in size and style, from delicate designs on walnut jewelry boxes to grand oak animal statues, and they’re well known for it. </p><p>When we’re in major towns where Nobles reside, their servants are sent with special requests, often carvings of animals, commonly wyverns, eagles, or horses, to be as tall as Joseph himself.  Or wood pillars with floral patterns carved on all sides, which we heard have been displayed at entrances of homes, in private libraries, or gardens, to name a few. Margaret had also been given paintings or drawings of a noble family to be carefully depicted on a piece of mahogany. If we received more than one order of the latter, that’s the only reason we stayed in one place longer than a month.</p><p>Theo, Samantha, and I have learned the craft well enough to be trusted to make our most popular items- children’s toys, board games and animal figures. Miniature rocking horses and wyverns being my favorite to whittle. </p><p>A petite, short-haired blond woman with a kind face stepped down from the wagon I had just hitched horses to. </p><p>She spoke in a gentle, friendly voice, “Oh come now, Margaret. What rush are we in? Do you know of a special order in the next town?” </p><p>“I just like getting to it and on the road, you know that well and fine, Lily. We can get a prime spot for the next location.” </p><p>“Aww, c’mon Margs! Songs in the mornings are wonderful, the best way to start a day!” Lily’s husband Eric, a large, red-cheeked man with a guitar strapped to his back, walked up and kissed Lily on the cheek. She glanced at him lovingly then took his hands into hers.</p><p>“I see you were impatient putting the strings on the guitars again, Eric. I wish you’d slow down so you’d stop slicing your hands.” Her hands glowed white onto his, and the last bit of any existing scratches vanished.</p><p>“Or I can have my beautiful wife heal me every day.” She blushed and gave her husband a kiss.</p><p>Lily and Eric Bisset and their four kids- Robin, Beatris, Sebastian, and Molly- are all musicians, and their wares are instruments. Eric is a master luthier and can make any string instrument look like works of art.  Lily makes their hand drums, but her true joy is healing people for free when they visit towns. Depending on the place, sometimes to get aid you have to pay a tax. This is her kind way of saying “screw you” to the nobles.</p><p>Joseph, the woodcarver, was putting one of the display tables in a wagon when he said, “The packing needs to be done, Eric.  Remember the Selnick’s are hunting rabbits and birds for the journey. They should be back soon, but you know they’ll want to get on the road too. That being said... why not listen to music <em> while </em>we do the chores.” </p><p>Margaret laughed. “I have no complaints about that, after all these years I don’t think I get tired of hearing you all sing.”</p><p>“Ah ha! How about I play something energetic to pick up the pace!” Eric swung his guitar forward and started playing one of my favorite songs as I began making my way back to the stalls to get more of our horses.</p><p>About an hour later, the Selnick’s- Patricia, Marcus and their kids Isla and Winston- come back with a full load of fresh game, and by looking at the state of the bag, already gutted and cleaned. They must’ve also found a stream, because all four of them looked pretty clean for having taken care of the game already.</p><p>Marcus and Patricia threw the bags of meat into a tight lidded box in their wagon to get back to later, and started to help finish up the packing. Like Joseph said, they’d want to get on the road too.</p><p>I just finished hitching our last two horses to their wagon when Isla and Winston came over.</p><p>Winston beamed up at me, “Amira, you need to join us next time to work on your bow skills! Look at our haul today, it would have been the perfect opportunity.” </p><p>“Soon, I promise. I’d like to master the sword before moving onto the next weapon.” I said.</p><p>Isla rolled her eyes and lightly punched my shoulder.  “Whatever, you can still at least practice. Next time?” While she and I are the same age, our relationship has played out where she feels like the older sister. </p><p>Needing a break from the heat, I climbed into their wagon with them and took my scarf off, using it to wipe my sweat, finally being able to take some fresh breaths.</p><p>I rolled my eyes and hit her back, “<em> Whatever </em>, fine. I want to be an expert in at least two weapons before I got to the Officers Academy anyway. I wish you’d save to come with me.” I smiled mischievously.</p><p>“Stop trying to convince me!” She laughed, “The way I see it, I can either make things that every day people find helpful, or I can join the Knights of Serios. Which isn’t for me. I fully support why you want to go, but I still wish you’d stay.” </p><p>She turned to her little brother and ruffled his hair, “That goes for you too, Win. Don’t forget about us when you go to the Academy to become a Knight.” </p><p>Win didn’t protest the ruffle, just grinned at his sister. “I still have years and years! You might be sick of me when it’s my turn to go!”</p><p>Isla just chuckled, then saw me smiling at them and sighed.</p><p>“I love when we leave town. I hate seeing you in that stupid scarf. I wish you wouldn’t wear it or cover up so much. It’s hot out for Goddess’s sake. You know we love you as you are.”</p><p>I huffed, “You know it’s about the buyers. No one wants to see me when they’re trying to buy the beautiful products everyone makes.”</p><p>“That’s the story you’re telling yourself, I doubt anyone would actually care. There are so many people in Fódlan-”</p><p>“-you can’t tell us there aren’t mercenaries who don’t have visible scars?!” Win finished.</p><p>I was starting to get annoyed. “We’ve talked about this! Yes, other people have scars, but not the hundreds I have. How many have a slash on their throat and are alive? Remember what that woman shouted at me the first time I stepped outside the wagon in the market without it?” </p><p>Isla looked at her feet and mumbled, “A... child of the devil.”</p><p>I scowled. “Right. I’m not interested in that happening again.” </p><p>They didn’t respond to that. Win squeezed my hand before jumping out the wagon to help finish the packing. Isla and I also started moving to finish up the last bits of chores. </p><p>As I stepped out the wagon, I looked around at my family. It had been nearly one year since I’d stumbled into camp after walking most of the way from where I was found in Faerghus, to Daphnel in the Alliance, looking the way I did… everyone’s panic and grief are burned in my memory forever. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>I take a deep breath to calm the threat of tears welling in my eyes as I walk to the Garreg Mach Stables. </p><p><em> I miss my family. </em> </p><p>They all love me fiercely and took me in like I was their daughter by blood, without any hesitation. I’m so grateful.</p><p>I see a flash of red in one of the stables, and, involuntarily, my heart flutters.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ages in the flashback &amp; family info! And while we didn't see everyone below speak, I went ahead and included them just so you know they exist, because they will appear sometime :-)</p><p>Amira: 15</p><p>*Margaret and Joseph Ebner, twins Theo and Samantha (Sam) (14). Amira’s adoptive parents. Wood carvers.</p><p>*Lily and Eric Bisset, 4 children: Robin (15), Beatris (Tris) (12), Sebastian (Seb) (9), Molly (3). Luthiers and musicians.</p><p>*Patricia and Marcus Selnick, 2 children: Isla (15) and Winston (Win) (11). Hunters &amp; weapon trainers. Make and sell a variety of clothes and blankets.</p><p> </p><p>~*~</p><p>Thank you for reading!! Comments appreciated! :-) &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Whittle.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's Sylvain's birthday! Some super cute Sylvain/Amira flirting while they complete stable chores, then his birthday party.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Garland Moon.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As I walk up to the Garreg Mach Stables, the smells of manure and the sweetness of hay grow stronger with each step, the familiarity bringing me comfort. As some of the horses peer over their half-doors, I smile at the sound of knocks from Dorte, Marianne’s horse, kicking at his door, probably upset I’m not his favorite person. And my girl, Missy, nods her head as I approach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the next stall, Sylvain is concentrating as he grooms his horse, Ebony. This seems to be the only chore he shows up early for. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He must love horses as much as I do. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They’re such gentle, soulful creatures. I feel like they can see right through a person. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Staying quiet, I pet Missy as I watch him talk to Ebony. “Hey handsome, your black coat is looking extra shiny today. I bet you feel great with your hooves nice and free from muck. Wanna run around the pasture? It’s beautiful out, you’re going to love it.” He strokes the horse's neck, showing a genuine smile, the warmth of it making me feel a swoop in my stomach. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now, this authentic smile is something I wish I saw more frequently.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I like seeing him this way. His guard down, not trying to play up for anyone. I’m even debating on sneaking away, thinking maybe this is nice for him, but Missy whinnies and he looks up and directly at me. Unfortunately replacing the genuine smile with his cheesy one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, blue eyes. Enjoying your view?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I walk into the next stall to groom Missy. “Ebony is quite a handsome horse.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain clicks his tongue. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Uh huh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will admit I was listening, it was nice hearing you talk to him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>hearing is you </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>watching me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My eyes roll a lot around Sylvain. “Fine, for a minute. I like seeing your guard down. That’s when you seem to just be yourself.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His smile falters and eyebrows knit for a moment, but he quickly bounces back. “I’m always me, blue eyes!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slightly shaking my head, I finish picking Missy’s hooves and grab a curry comb. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, I’m guessing you grew up with horses?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain smiles as he brushes out Ebony’s mane. “Sure did. I loved being around them when I was a kid, and went riding all the time. Still do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When you were little, what did you love about it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, back then going on rides was probably the only time my family wouldn’t fight. Dad not yelling, mom not crying, my brother not trying to hurt me. We wouldn’t talk. We were simply together, enjoying the beautiful surroundings... It was nice.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s… not that nice of a memory. He knows, too. His eyes droop and he frowns at the thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I try to steer to something </span>
  <em>
    <span>happier</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you grew up with Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid. Would you ride together when visiting each other?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain laughs. “Oh yeah! We and Felix's brother, Glenn, had a lot of fun taking the horses out. Glenn and Felix would race, always trying to see whose horse was faster. Felix always lost, pissing him off. The rest of us would laugh about it while putting the horses away for the night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I didn’t know Felix has an older brother!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He frowns again. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Had</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He died during the Tragedy of Duscur.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...You know about that, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I nod. “A little. I knew the King and his wife died, and that Dimitri is the only survivor. So... one of the Knights with them was Glenn?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain nods. “Just so you know, we don’t really talk about it. It still hurts. Ingrid is still very much heartbroken, I think... She and Glenn were betrothed.” He adds when I look confused at the Ingrid comment. “So let’s just keep that here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We stare at each other for a moment. I’m kind of afraid to take another shot at finding a happy memory. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He breaks the stare. “Wow, sorry. You were asking me why I love being around horses! I keep bringing it down. Guess I’m feeling sentimental today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I shrug. “You’re being honest. Thank you for sharing those memories with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grabbing a dandy brush, I start swiping off the hair and dirt brought out by the curry comb, my back to Sylvain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, is there a reason you’re feeling sentimental?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh… Maybe because it’s my birthday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I look over my shoulder at him. “What! It is? Uh, well happy birthday then! Are you doing anything special?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“First, I wanted to spend my morning with a pair of pretty eyes.” He winks at me, I shake my head and turn my attention back to Missy. He continues, “Then I’m going to take this handsome fellow on a ride. Later this afternoon the Professor asked to have tea to celebrate… and I have a date tonight!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I shake my head and chuckle. “Of course you do. This is what, the third one this week?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He purrs. “Ooh, so you’re also keeping track of me with those baby blues, huh?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha, ha! OR it’s nearly impossible to tune out Ingrid yelling at you the day after.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmm, true. But still… you’re paying attention.” He teases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I turn to snap at him, finding him leaning against his stall ledge. His eyes flicker up to mine, but not fast enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My eyes widen. “Were you… were you just checking out my ass?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a smug look he leans back from the stall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seriously </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gautier! I have clothes covering nearly every inch of my body, you only see half my face-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-</span>
  <em>
    <span>form fitting</span>
  </em>
  <span> clothes and-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-you are lucky it’s your birthday or-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-does it help if I say you look </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>good in those pan-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-I’d smack you and </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t comment on that!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” I’m giving him the coldest, stoniest look I have. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it and narrows his eyes suspiciously when I start to giggle. I put my hands over my scarf to contain my laughter to not spook the horses. Sylvain catches on that I’m fucking with him, and we laugh for a while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha, ha... Ha! Ooooh I gotcha good. But really, Guatier, almost every inch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain smirks at me. “I’ll explain it to you someday. But right now, I’m going to take Ebony for a ride.” He throws a blanket on the horse, then grabs a saddle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure. Well, happy birthday, Sylvain. Maybe on Friday we can have a cake for you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’d be nice.” Making sure the saddle is snug, he puts on the bridle and opens the stall door, then glances at me. “Thanks, Blue.” He winks as he and Ebony walk away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s out of sight when I realize there are four more stalls to clean and horses to groom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That sneaky shit. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>so</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> lucky it’s his birthday</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's Friday, which we’ve dubbed Lion-In-Night, where we all gather in the Blue Lion classroom in the evening after dinner, and hang out, playing games and such. Lion-Ins are not really about </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>the Lions, anyone from other houses is welcome. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most of the Golden Deer join us, all if we can convince Marianne and Lysithea to hang out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few Black Eagles come, too. Dorothea, Ferdinand, and Caspar always join us. Linhardt has shown up before, but leaves to go to bed pretty soon after arriving, and Bernadetta thinks everyone is out to get her, so she never wants to come. Hopefully she’ll be comfortable enough someday. Edelgard and Hubert have joined once, but haven’t come again. Which is too bad. They both always look so serious, they could use some fun in their lives. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We don’t decorate the classroom in any special way, that would be too much work. There are already grand fireplaces on either side of the room, with black, plush, four-person couches in front of the fires. The first couple weeks of being here, I’d chuckle every time I’d walk into the classroom, thinking about how strange it is we have such an expansive space to learn in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie, Mercie, and sometimes Lysithea are the ones who bake birthday cakes for everyone, so when I arrive in my trademark last-person-there way, they have one ready on Byleth’s desk. Sylvain, having finished enjoying a slice, puts his plate down as I approach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His face lights up. “About time, Blue.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha, ha,” I put a hand in my pocket. “So, I have a gift for you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A kiss? I’d love one, thank you!” He starts to lean down but I slap my hand in his face to stop him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For Goddess’s sake, what are you going to do- kiss my scarf, idiot? Anyway, hold out your hand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feigns offence. “Wow, can’t believe you called me an idiot on my birthday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was two days ago, so technically it’s not. Do you want your fucking present or not?” I shift my body like I’m going to walk away, then he holds his hand out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, please!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I smirk and place a miniature wooden rocking horse in his hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grins at it. “Wow! Where did you get it? I don’t remember seeing these in the market.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t, unless my adoptive family was here. I made this!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His grin turns into that beautiful, genuine smile as his eyes widen. “You… you made this for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, yeah. After our talk at the stables, I thought you might like to have one for your dorm desk. My adopted parents are woodcarvers, I assisted them by making the little toys and animals. Helped me save the money to get here. Do you like it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The look that spreads on his face, it’s honest appreciation. He pulls me into a hug. “I love it. Thank you, Blue. Really.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Throughout the evening, he goes around showing everyone the rocking horse I made. Which is sweet, except now everyone is asking me to whittle something for them. And I’m happy to... for their birthdays. I do not have time to whittle everyone a toy right now. But I tell Mercedes, Annette, and Raphael I’ll make them something since their birthdays were last month. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finishing my slice of cake, I put the plate down and re-tuck my scarf into my collar, when Leonie and Dorothea appear at my side. The latter with a mischievous grin and twinkling eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So…” She whispers, “You made something for Sylvain. Something… </span>
  <em>
    <span>special </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>thoughtful </span>
  </em>
  <span>for him…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clearing my throat, I avoid eye contact. “I don’t see what the big-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-something that took </span>
  <em>
    <span>time </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>care </span>
  </em>
  <span>to make…” Thea purses her lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leonie is holding back laughter. I look between her and Thea with my mouth slightly open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, slow down there. I’ve told you enough about my family for you to know I’ve made hundreds of those. It didn’t take as much </span>
  <em>
    <span>time </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought </span>
  </em>
  <span>as you’re thinking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea winks at me. “Ok, sure thing, Amira. Boop!” On the boop she taps my nose with her finger, I shake my head away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t fuckin </span>
  <em>
    <span>boop me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thea! I simply hadn’t thought to make the toys before, ok? The idea just came to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leonie’s face is red now, but she can’t contain her silent laughter anymore and bursts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok Lee, what’s so damn funny?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lee takes a breath to steady herself “It’s just pretty obvious to us. You don’t have to pretend here, so knock it off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I throw them a look of concern. “When you say </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span>... who is in that ‘us’, exactly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea puts her hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Might be just Lee, Mercie, and I. Annie tends to stay in her own little world. But now that I think of it, you’ve been spending a lot of time with Claude, and you know he doesn’t miss a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Her eyes widen. “Oh, wait, wait, wait! Do you like Claude, </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I shrug her hand away. “He’s just a friend. I’m serious!” The whine that pairs with my exclamation does not help, and they keep laughing at me. “Y’all are starting to get on my nerves right now! But seriously, Claude is just a good friend.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah! Did I hear my name? And hey Flash, will I get a wood toy for </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>birthday? It’s next month, Blue Sea Moon, on the 24th!” He drapes an arm over my shoulders, and I automatically put mine around his waist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dang, I need to start collecting wood and writing these orders down. But my answer is of course, what’s your favorite animal?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He squeezes my shoulder. “Can you do a wyvern?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Briefly glancing at Thea and Lee, I see them raise their eyebrows as their eyes flicker between me and Claude.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What is this, pick on Amira night?! What else am I going to do with my arm? Keep it dangling down where it might brush against his ass? Or make sure that doesn’t happen?! Fuck’s sake</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I keep my tone friendly despite being very annoyed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Absolutely!”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And then…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...This moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Right now. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not another time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He literally could have done this </span>
  <em>
    <span>any other time. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude kisses the top of my fucking head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Flash! I’m going to grab some cake now before it’s gone.” He unwraps his arm and walks away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooooooh!” Lee and Thea both exclaim as they giggle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not appreciating the humor, I start to stalk away, but Lee grabs me. “Oh I don’t think so! Thea and I have clearly got some of this wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I arch a brow. “Whaaaat do you have wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They give each other a knowing glance before Thea twinkles her eyes at me. “Claude </span>
  <em>
    <span>digs you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like…” Lee nods and gives me a serious look, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>digs you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A moment of silence passes, and all I say is- </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’ll put what Amira makes for people's birthdays in notes, because I think it’s cute to know. I imagine they all are on stands so they can sit on a desk.</p>
<p>Mercedes: A fancy carving of of the Seiros Crest, which I imagine is their version of a cross.</p>
<p>Annie: a smiling sun</p>
<p>Raphael: I like to think he asked her to carve his sister's favorite animal so he could send it to her, instead of wanting something for himself, and that Amira does it and whittles him a fancy pencil to write his letters with or something. </p>
<p>Edelgard: An Eagle. Amira doesn’t know her very well, only knew it was Edie’s birthday because Dorothea told her, and the gift pleasantly surprised Edie. </p>
<p>Lorenz: a very detailed stem of royal jasmine flowers, calling back to her convo with him. He was hella impressed in his Lorenz way lol.</p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I'd love to hear what you think in the comments :-)</p>
<p>Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Lions.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Amira has 'supports' with all the Lions. Learn more about her past throughout.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>**CW: Her PTSD is triggered in one support**</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Garland Moon.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Byleth.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The iron gate creeks as I push it open, stepping into Byleth’s tiny private courtyard attached to her room. It’s not much, just big enough to have a small round table with two iron chairs pulled up to it, and two more stacked off to the side. She steps out her side door, her hair up in a cute ponytail, and she’s wearing her usual black shorts and a dark grey tank top, showing off her strong arms.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amira, what’s your favorite kind of tea?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I plop my bag on the table and reach in. “I like berry blend tea, but I also love coffee and rarely get the chance to drink it. I’ve heard you like it too, so…” I pull out a bag of brown beans and toss it to her. “Look what came in a package from my family!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth’s eyes twinkle as she catches it. I chuckle as she puts it to her nose and inhales, likely appreciating the earthy, coco notes of this batch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure you’re ok with sharing this?” She asks hopefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course! That’s why I brought it. Please, brew away!” I sit in one of the chairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This takes a few minutes, come in.” She says, walking back into her room. I stand right back up and follow her inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is the first time I’ve been in her room. I expected it to be pretty bare, since she’s a straightforward person. But I’m pleased to be wrong. Apparently, she enjoys sketching. On the wall space above her desk are drawings of her dad, some people who I assume are from the mercenary crew they were part of, and landscape sketches. There’s a few that catch my attention, but one that makes me particularly excited. It’s one of the few where she’s used color, and I’d recognize the bright yellows, greens, and reds of those merchant tents anywhere. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve been to Almyra?!” I point to the picture, my face alight with joy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A corner of her lip twitches up. “Only a few times. Not as often or long as I would like, there just isn’t much work for us mercenaries. Almyrans prefer to handle their own business. But there were Fódlan merchants a couple times who needed an escort through the Throat and back if they wished to establish a trading relationship.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I lean my hip against her desk. “I had never thought about how it’d be different for mercenaries.” I point to another landscape picture, recognizing the large stone arches, “Sreng, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth nods as she hands me a cup of coffee, and we head back outside to sit in the chairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve been to Sreng?” She asks, taking a sip. Momentarily, she closes her eyes and softly hums, clearly savoring the strong flavors.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I swallow. “Only a few times, they’re not as welcoming to merchants as Almyra is. Therefore, it’s not as easy for us to cross the border.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of Byleth’s eyebrows twitches. “Usually people say the opposite, since the region of Gautier doesn’t have a fortress guarding the border to Sreng, but Almyra has Fódlan’s Locket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shrugging, I finish my sip of coffee before answering. “Yeah, that is the case for most people. But my family has a long and good relationship with Almyra, so we have ways to get there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Over the next hour Byleth and I swap travel stories, comparing what we like or dislike about different cities and villages in Fódlan. She’s neutral about most places, but I am able to pull some more details out of her, and I’m not disappointed. She told me stories ranging from the mercenary crew getting shitfaced and </span>
  <em>
    <span>starting </span>
  </em>
  <span>bar fights, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>breaking up</span>
  </em>
  <span> bar fights and getting a free stay in the nearby Inn, to the types of missions they get assigned. I’m able to wheedle out of her that she probably started drinking much too young, but it was never a big deal so it wasn’t like she indulged a lot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once we finish the coffee, we feel hyper and agree to head to the training grounds to get a sword sparring session in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sparring with Byleth brings a different type of comfort from anyone else. When a sword is in Byleth’s hands, she becomes the Ashen Demon. Her face becomes blank, her eyes completely void of emotion, and that’s the place I like to go as well.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Being empty unnerves Felix when we spar. He prefers fighting fire with fire, which I’m happy to give him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the unthinking blankness, allowing my instincts to swallow me whole and just be... Only battles, hunting, and Byleth let me do that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After picking our training swords and a quick warm up, we face each other in the circle, scuffing the dirt before getting into our starting positions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We always start still, waiting to see who will go first. Most of the time it’s me, Byleth being significantly more patient than I am. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But not today, By.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Others in the training grounds start to chuckle, wondering what kind of spar session takes so long to get going.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I adjust my grip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth lunges.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sudden, sharp sounds of our blades clashing make the onlookers jump. As we dance around each other, the constant clinging of our swords with each impact makes my ears ring and arms vibrate. I swing my sword high and down, hers meeting mine in a defensive position before she forcefully pushes me, making me take a few steps back. Her intention is to knock me off balance, but I’ve fallen to this move enough times, and Felix and I have been practicing our response. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Side stepping her thrust, I sweep my training sword under her outreached arms, and glide the wood along her belly. The lioness in me purrs with joy, this is the first time I’ve gotten a first hit on her. I tend to have the advantage of speed on Byleth, so eventually I get a hit, but never the first one. Because Byleth is quite fast herself, and besides being strong, she has significantly more experience than I do. Meaning it typically takes only one, maybe two, hits from her to knock me down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Which she does</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Getting hit gives her an extra jolt, and her attacks strengthen. Sweat starts dripping from my forehead and soaking into my scarf as our swings, perrys and blocks pick up with rapid speed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s been holding back on me! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My last swing opens up her stance, and I’m about to move into another attack, which should have been a winning hit, but I missed her leg coming up to kick me in the chest, knocking me hard into the dirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I roll onto my side, coughing, as Byleth steps over me and offers her hand. I take it, and she easily pulls me up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve improved greatly. I’m impressed.” Byleth gives me a little smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My eyes twinkle with pride. “I finally got the first hit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods. “You did, and I didn’t like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chuckling, I shake my head. “Yeah, I could tell. You’ve been holding back on Felix and I, please don’t. He’s going to be so pissed when I tell him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth laughs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Laughs! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ok, so it’s a quiet, miniscule snort, but holy shit- I made Byleth laugh!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I give a light squeal of delight. “Wow, I’m having a good day. I just made you laugh!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shakes her head. “No, you didn’t,” and turns around to head to the other side of the sparring circle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My eyes widen. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>And a joke? </span>
  </em>
  <span>You can have the whole bag of coffee, Byleth, if this is what happens.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning to face me, she raises her sword. “Ready? I won’t hold back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I shake out my shoulders and allow my mind to empty and face go blank again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Good.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Dimitri.</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>SMACK!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“OH!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>THUD.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amira!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I roll to my side, coughing. The wind knocked out of me due to the hit and fall I just took.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hand starts slapping my back. I’m pissed until I’m able to mostly breathe again. Dimitri stops once I’m no longer coughing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s profusely apologizing as I push myself to my knees, and he helps me stand up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>so sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Amira. I didn’t mean to swing so hard-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I put my hand up. “Stop Dimitri, it’s fine. I told you to not hold back, and I honestly appreciate you taking it to heart.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He vigorously shakes his head. “No, I shouldn’t have-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-I was always told, ‘you only learn by pushing yourself to the edge’. I need you to do that. Think Felix or Byleth go easy on me? Even Dedue, Raphael and Caspar don’t hold back when they’re helping me improve my grappling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My Crest makes me stronger than most, I should know better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dimitri! Do you believe enemies will see me and think, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh there’s a girl, let’s go easy on her! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Of course they won’t! They’ll just kill me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I get him with that one, but I can tell he’s still mad at himself. I sigh. “I could’ve asked so many people to help me learn to use a lance. Know why I asked you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking down, he huffs, furrows his brows and crosses his arms. “No, why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I move towards him and put my hands on his shoulders, making him look me in the eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Because </span>
  </em>
  <span>you’re the strongest lance user. Think about my training strategy for a moment. Byleth and Felix are the strongest with swords. Leonie is a master with a bow. Raphael </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>a fucking boulder. The common ground here is I mostly train with people better and stronger than me. If a big person pins me to the ground, only a big person can teach me to get out of it. I want to be a strong lance user, and I can only do that by actually training with one. Do you understand what I’m saying?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His body finally relaxes and he nods his head. “I understand. Well then, what I think happened is your feet are still too close together. When you’re sword fighting, yes you need to be on the balls of your feet so you can move fast. But with lance you need a more sturdy, powerful stance. Let me show you again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next hour is spent reviewing basic stances, holds, movements and combinations. I also ask him to show me fancy lance spins just for the fun of it. I’m pleased with myself for getting the humble prince to show off his twirling skills, and getting some belly laughs out of him when I try to imitate him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We are sitting against a wall, resting. I untuck my scarf from my collar to take sips of water and breathe a little better, when he speaks up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Earlier, you said you were always told ‘you only learn by pushing yourself’. Is that something your parents say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m looking straight ahead at the other side of the training grounds, watching Petra help Dorothea with more advanced sword techniques.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I keep my eyes on them as I answer. “That’s what one of my… aunties, I guess is the easiest thing to call Patricia, says. She became my sword instructor, after… umm.” I shift, uncomfortable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri is quiet for a moment, then slowly says, “I see. Amira, are your parents with the Goddess now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That actually makes me smile a little. He would have a nice way to ask if my parents are dead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since he doesn’t know I’m smiling, I make eye contact so he can see the corners of my eyes crinkle. “Yeah, they are. I bet our parents are hanging out together, watching us hit each other with long sticks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heh! I like that. It’s a nice thought, indeed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We’re quiet again, and I move my eyes to another corner of the grounds. Claude, Leonie and Ashe are all shooting targets together, looks like they’re trying to see who can get the most bullseyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amira, may I ask how they died?” He asks gently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take a big sip of water to give myself a moment to think about how I want to answer this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An accident with our wagon. That was four years ago, when I was 15.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri takes a deep breath. “Four years ago was when the Tragedy of Duscur happened… My father and step-mother in their carriages…” He looks at me, “A little similar, in a way.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Seeing his hand is on his knee, I put mine over it and squeeze, then bring my hand back to my own lap. After a few more moments, I can hear Dimitri opening and closing his mouth a couple times.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I glance at him. “Did you want to ask or say something else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Would it be too forward to ask if that’s when you started wearing your scarf?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take another sip of water. “Hmm… well, my answer is it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>sort of</span>
  </em>
  <span> when I started wearing it. But that-” I stand up and hold my hand out to him,  “-is a story for another day. Ready to go again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Understanding the dismissal to ask no more questions, but still wanting to train, he takes my hand to let me help him up. We grab our training lances and step back onto the grounds.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Dedue.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Putting the watering can down, I walk over to the grand, red flower in the corner of the greenhouse. I feel the soil and it’s way overwatered. Shaking my head, I go to the shed and grab a new bag of dry soil. I’m starting to replace the damp with the dry when I see Dedue approaching me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” He asks in a calm and firm way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone watered these beautiful flowers. So I’m trying to replace some of the damp soil with this dry bag. Do you think they’ll be ok?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glancing at him, I notice he looks confused, but he responds in his usual tone. “I’ve been meaning to ask if your merchant family had visited Duscur?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I wipe my hands on my pants, having done my best, and pick up the bag of soil to return to the shed. “We did! I’ve been to Duscur a few times. I think I was 8 the last time we were there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Walking back from the shed, I pick up the watering can to water other flowers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me and the other merchant kids loved playing with the locals. I remember one day seeing this boy over by the same big, red flowers. I thought they were beautiful then, too. I walked up to the boy and he knew all about them. Telling me they’re interesting because they don’t need to be watered, it’d make their roots rot. Then he showed me and my siblings around the fields and taught us about all the flowers. It was nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dedue furrows his eyebrows. “...Do you remember his name?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I shake my head. “Unfortunately, I don’t. That was 11 years ago. Wait…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whipping my head around to Dedue, I see he’s looking at me with a funny expression.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amira, I have a memory of showing a merchant girl our field of flowers when I was 7, which was 11 years ago. When I saw you knew how to take care of this flower...” Dedue’s actually smiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What! </span>
  <em>
    <span>We’ve met?</span>
  </em>
  <span> How amazing is that, Dedue!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is a small world.” But his smile melts to a frown. “It’s nice to know someone here, other than myself, has seen those beautiful fields.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My voice is quiet. “I heard they were burned… What happened is so awful. My family was, </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span>, outraged over the Tragedy. It just doesn’t make sense. How on earth can a few untrained Duscurians successfully ambush a large group of trained soldiers? Doesn’t make a lick of sense. Then for a whole </span>
  <em>
    <span>people </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be blamed for the actions of a few? Devastating.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks thoughtful. “Hmm, Sylvain has said the same to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I shrug. “Glad Dimitri and I aren’t the only one who think it’s ridiculous. And... I’m so sorry it happened. Was your family…?” He nods solemnly. “My condolences. I will pray to the Gods that they’re resting in peace, wherever that may be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He furrows his eyes at me and whispers, “Do you not believe in the Goddess?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I whisper back, “Not quite, to be honest. My entire family has their doubts anyway. But we’ve learned a lot about multiple Gods because of our travels to Duscur and Almyra, and we’ve met people from Brigid. We just… think that makes more sense.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dedue, as ever the stoic man, just nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We continue our shift in the greenhouse, occasionally reminiscing about the time we met.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Felix.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha!” Felix shouts as he wins this round. I curse and turn around to walk it off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even though we’ve been training our asses off these few months, we still manage to tie in wins and loses. I was the first to win, though. Which is a permanent chip on Felix’s shoulder. But a win for someone means they lose the next round. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We are both cocky in our sword skills, only Byleth and Catherine humbling us. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When one of us wins, our heads get a little bigger. When we lose, we get furious and push even harder. That combination has led to this wild back and forth- win, lose, win, lose, win, lose, etc… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, I wiggle my arms and allow my competitive anger to rise in me, ready to bust out some offensive footwork I’ve been working on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning around to let him know I’m ready, I notice he’s looking at the entrance to the training grounds, and… is he </span>
  <em>
    <span>blushing</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Even though it’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>smallest </span>
  </em>
  <span>hint of red, it’s definitely there. And I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>it’s not a flush from our fight. I like to think since Felix and I train almost every day together, I know the difference between his flush and a blush.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I turn my head and see the only new person to enter in the past couple minutes. My dear friend, Annie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie has vented to Mercie, Lee, Thea, and I that Felix always seems to pop up when she’s singing one of her silly songs, and she isn’t sure if he’s making fun of her or genuinely likes it, cause he always asks for her to sing it again. He’s even </span>
  <em>
    <span>requested </span>
  </em>
  <span>a song!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mercie and I are the only ones who think he’s being honest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When has Felix ever talked just to talk?” I always say when Annie brings it up. “He says what he means, and means what he says.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Edgy guys like Felix must like rays of light like you, Annie. That’s what I think.” Mercie said thoughtfully. I agree completely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s an asshole. Don’t trust him.” I don’t blame Thea for hating Felix, he’s only been a jerk to her. If Thea mentions a rude encounter, I go extra hard when we meet to train.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lee is on the side that he’s messing with her, because she thinks poorly of all nobles except Claude, doesn’t matter if he may actually be acting nice to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, well, well.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I think I have my answer now. If</span>
  <em>
    <span> Felix</span>
  </em>
  <span> is blushing, to me it’s loud and clear he likes Annie </span>
  <em>
    <span>very much</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And with Annie… I can tell that underneath her complaining, she doesn’t actually mind his attention as much as she lets on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As I walk up to Felix, with perfect timing I hear Annie say, “Hi, Amira! Hi, Felix!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she’s close to us, she looks at me. “Amira, I remember you wanted to talk to me about reason magic? When would you like to do that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah! I appreciate you checking in, can you meet me in the library tomorrow afternoon? Felix, join us. I remember you mentioned the other day you were thinking of going for a Mortal Savant class someday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Felix glares at me, probably not appreciating I didn’t ask if I could talk about his goal to others, but his eyes soften when Annie squeaks. “How wonderful, Felix! I know you’ll be </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>great at that! I’m so excited to study with you both tomorrow!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She practically skips away, humming a tune. Sounds like a new song.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell, Blackwood?” He says my name like a curse word. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I step closer to him and whisper, “Well, Fraldarius. I saw a tinge of red rise in those cheeks when she walked in. So, I’ll pretend you thanked me instead. Now.” I jog a few steps back, “Ready for defeat?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolls his eyes, and we spar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I win.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Annette</b>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goddess, Annette, slow down!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I grab potholders and remove the pan from heat, for once grateful for the scarf. It’s preventing the grease from splattering all over my face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you, Annie. But trying to do too many things at once is why accidents seem to happen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Poor Annie looks so flustered. “Dedue and Ashe say that too, but I keep doing it! I just want to be good at cooking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I giggle. “I think Dedue is giving Flayn lessons, you should ask him if you can join them. If it helps you feel better, as precious as Flayn is, at least your food is edible. Plus, you’re an incredible baker. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She lets out a defeated grunt. “That’s what frustrates me! Why am I so good at baking, but awful at cooking? It doesn’t make any sense.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I disagree, I think there’s a logical explanation.” Annie tilts her head at that. I continue while fixing the meal. “What I’ve learned about you as a person, Annie, is that with your studies you’re very meticulous. You're so skilled in magic because of this. You’re excellent with details and formulas, and baking is precise. You have to have the right measurements of things, because if you use too much or little of anything, the texture of the goods are all thrown off, right? Makes sense you’d be good at it, when given a formula, you’re flawless.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She purses her lips and starts taking out plates to stack on the buffet table. “Hmmm, ok. I see your point there. But how’s that different from cooking?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ahh, because cooking isn’t quite so precise. The size of meat, vegetables, and fruit are unpredictable. Since they’re not always the same size, it changes how long it takes to cook and the amount of seasoning to use. It’s all about feeling and some educated guessing. Dedue always cooked with his mother. He learned to go with the flow in the kitchen. That’s why he’s so great at it. You can be too if you let yourself relax.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie’s face is alight with understanding. “I get it! Wow, that makes a lot of sense! I’ll think about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We finish up, Annie helps me move the food onto a platter and set it out on the buffet table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You seem to be pretty good at cooking, Amira, who taught you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I wave my hand at her. “Thanks, but I’m just decent. I can do basic things, it’s my dad who was an excellent cook.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We start cleaning up the kitchen, and I’m trying to think how to bring Felix up, when she starts humming a song. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Has Felix heard any more of your songs?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stops humming and looks at me suspiciously. “No, not for a while now… why are you asking?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I raise an eyebrow at her. “He didn’t even ask for a song when he met you in the library last week? Oh, and sorry I couldn’t make it. Didn’t feel well.” I hold my breath to stop from booming with laughter after seeing the expression on her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait a second! Last week you told me you missed because the Professor wanted to meet with you! Ooh, Amira! Did you do that on </span>
  <em>
    <span>purpose</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beaming at her, I say, “Remember the first day we hung out, Annie? You said people needed to be careful around me when crushes were in sight?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her mouth falls open. “I don't remember telling you I like Felix.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha! Ooh, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>did.” The wet towel she was holding hits my face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was tricky of you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, all I’m going to say is, I never said it was about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without looking at her, I throw our towels in the kitchen’s laundry hamper and walk out.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Ingrid. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Haaahahahahaaaa...</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>More giggling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the past 30 minutes, someone in the library has been sporadically trying to suppress their laughter, but it’s not working very well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one else seems to care, but for some reason I really want to know who it is, and what’s funny. I also don’t want to study, so I welcome the distraction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I slink out of my chair and try to inconspicuously walk around the room, peering over heads and shoulders from a distance. I’m looking for non textbooks, passed notes, headings leaning in, or…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, well, Ingrid.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Walking up behind her and seeing a novel hidden in her tactics textbook, I smirk. “Wutcha doin’, Ingrid?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She jumps and pulls the books to her chest. “Oh! You startled me, Amira!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I plop in the chair next to her and smirk. “Not surprised, I can tell you’re really engrossed in your… studying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blushes. “Fine, you caught me. I really felt like re-reading this story. It’s one of my favorites.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oooh, tell me more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ingrid talks a lot, but not like this. I’m used to her serious edginess, but this is bubbly excitement! The novel is about knights who spend their days slaying demonic beasts, dragons, crawlers, and saving threatened villages. It’s mostly adventure, with a touch of romance. I’ve never been much for fairy tales, but it genuinely sounds interesting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds like a great story, Ingrid. Lend it to me when you’re done?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her face perks up and she pushes the book in my arms. “Take it! I’ve read it so many times!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I thank her and place it on the table. “Do you read a lot of books?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yes. I love reading about knights. Ashe does too, that book is both our favorite. And you know I dream of being an amazing knight someday. Like the ones in these books, and like Glenn was...” She trails off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I prop my elbow on the table and rest my head on my hand. “Felix’s brother, right? You were engaged? My condolences.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her face is solemn. “Thank you. It’s still painful to think about, to be honest.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He must have been a very brave, good man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A smile creeps on her face. “He was a good man. Felix is a bit like him. Glenn wasn’t as temperamental as Felix, though. And he was always gentle with me. Like Felix is to An-” She breaks off and her eyes widen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I chuckle. “Oh, believe me, I know who you’re talking about. It’s adorable. Well.” I stand up and grab the book. “To be honest, I don’t want to study either. Want to go to the training grounds and help me with the lance?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ingrid answers by quickly packing her bag, and I go back to my table to follow suit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Sylvain.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blue!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ahh! Oh, Sylvain! Wow, I’m really enjoying this book. You surprised me!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I sit up from lying on the grass in the courtyard. It’s a nice day, so I thought I’d start reading the book about knights that Ingrid loaned me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyebrows shoot up, almost disappearing in his hairline, as he plops down next to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry- I, Sylvain Jose Gautier, startled the ever observant and swift Amira ‘Flash’ Blackwood?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I smack the novel hard on his arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ow! Did I deserve that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I shrug. “Maybe it was an exaggerated reaction to what you said. But I’m sticking by it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Placing the bookmark in and putting the novel down, I glance at Sylvain and notice he’s wearing one of his nicer blue shirts and dress pants. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, don’t you look fancy? On your way to a date?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He flashes his teeth at me with enthusiasm. “That’s exactly why I came over here! I wanted to see what you thought of my outfit!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I chuckle as I give him a once over. “Blue is your color, you look great.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nudges my shoulder, and his eyes are twinkling. Ah- he’s feelin’ playful. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Here it comes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Blue, I agree- blue </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> my color.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wooow, Gautier.” I drawl, “You’re a poet for pick-up lines. Anyway, I hope you have plenty of fun tonight.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I wink at him, and he dramatically slaps a hand to his chest, feigning surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are, literally, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>only </span>
  </em>
  <span>person who has ever said that to me when it comes to my dates. Ingrid always yells at me, and everyone generally thinks I’m some sort of monster.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I twinge at the word monster, and while he said it in a playful tone, I’ve spent enough time with him to know it hurts his feelings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking my head, I nudge him back. “You’re 20. A grown ass adult. As long as you’re sticking to people close to your age, you’re dating another adult. I mean-” I shift my tone to a more serious one, “You’re not being gross and dating girls under 18, right? And if they say no you back off?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks down and starts picking the dandelions in front of him. “Definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>under 18, promise. If a woman says no to having, you know, of course I back off. But…” He sighs deeply, “I can be an asshole. Look, I want to find love, it’s why I go on so many dates… it’s just like I’ve said before, they only care about my Crest and nobility.” He takes a frustrated breath. “Anyway, I go into the date thinking ‘this will be the one’, only to be disappointed.” He hangs his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well… Look, Sylvain. First, you’re going into the dates with incredibly high expectations. Try going to them with the simple goal to get to know the person, and nothing more. Be honest with them. If you don’t feel a connection, and I mean an </span>
  <em>
    <span>emotional </span>
  </em>
  <span>connection, not the </span>
  <em>
    <span>sexual</span>
  </em>
  <span> one- ” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chokes up and wants to say something, but I stop him before he even starts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-and if you want to sleep with them, just ask if they want to spend the night and that’s it. Don’t say you’re going to follow up or some bullshit like that. Be honest and direct. Don’t assume women always want a relationship, sometimes we just want a good fuck, too. From what I’ve heard, you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>talented in that area.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I keep my eyes on the little bouquet of dandelions he made now, and I find myself in a moment in which I'm grateful for this scarf, because I </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot </span>
  </em>
  <span>believe the last line slipped from my lips, and I feel heat rising in my cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I sense him looking at me, and knowing him I’m sure his mouth is hanging open. I glance at him and laugh. Yup, he’s looking at me like I’m a damn demonic beast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There are… so many things you just said that are taking me back a little. First, I’d like you to please expand on-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-NOPE!” I grab my book and hop up, starting to speed away. “See you later!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the very tall red-head is right behind me, following as I round the corner and walk through one of the more secluded gardens off the dining hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I call over my shoulder. “Don’t you have to get going or-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-expand on how you said that women want a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> sometimes, and also-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-I could’ve sworn you said you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>on your way </span>
  </em>
  <span>to a date, and you’ve been talking to me for a while so-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-that you heard-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-your pants are probably dirty from sitting on the grass-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-that I’m talented, no! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Very talented </span>
  </em>
  <span>in bed? And how do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel about that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I slow down, realizing he’s not going to drop it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oooh my Goddess, I really regret trying to help you right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, his hand grips my shoulder, spinning me on my heels and pushing me, albeit gently, against the wall. Clutching the novel, I glare up at Sylvain as he braces his forearm on the wall next to my head, bringing him further into my personal space. Given how much he towers over me, this position traps me. He smirks and flutters his eyelashes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell, Gautier?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m feeling... many things at once. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m entranced by his curious, twinkling coffee brown eyes, his lavender scent that’s flooding my nose, his full lips near me, and I smell some bergamot tea on his breath... </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the push, this leaning over me... being trapped evokes a memory I do not want, and a strange mix of wanting his eyes on me, but also panic, swirl in me, battling each other for dominance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He purrs, “What do you think of that rumor, Amira? Do you think it’s true?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My spine shivers, but I’m focusing on staying calm, so he doesn’t notice…</span>
  <em>
    <span> I hope</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He uses the hand holding the dandelions to gently run it down my arm, barely touching me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s not hurting me. I’m ok. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I keep my eye contact, both to keep me grounded to the present reality, while also being determined to look annoyed instead of showing my panic, and maybe a little turned on. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Damn his irritatingly good looks, his smooth voice. But… If he’d just step back…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you think about it, Blue? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do you want to know?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He removes his arm from the wall, takes one of the dandelions and goes to tuck it in my scarf, near my ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I react automatically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“NO!” I push him back, which seems extra forceful because of the book, and take a few steps away from him. My body is shaking, my breathing is rapid, and vision blurring as my heart seems to be pounding against my chest. I check my scarf, it’s still tight. Always is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m not afraid of Sylvain by any means. I know he’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>never, ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>harm me. Rationally, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>he wasn’t going to do anything to me, let alone take my scarf off... but my nerves are shot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amira…” he takes a step towards me with concern on his face, but he stops when I take another step back. “Oh, Goddess… Amira, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so sorry,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I didn’t mean-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“N-no, I’m fine Sylvain, I promise. I’m... I… I hope you have a good time tonight. You look nice in that outfit.” I say quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I turn on my heels and speed away, hearing him curse behind me.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Ashe.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That much to repair shoes? C’mon, I bet you can afford to go a little lower.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re funny, kid. No way am I charging any less.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi Ashe. What’s up?” I walk up to the cobbler’s stall in the market and see Ashe holding up a pair of his boots, clearly in need of some service.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, hey Amira. Have you seen how much this guy is charging for boot repairs?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I look at the sign, shake my head and take Ashe’s boots out of his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, I know someone who fixes boots for free.” I turn and start walking away, Ashe at my shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, wait! Who the hell fixes boots for free! I’ll go 15% lower!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Over my shoulder, I call out, “I do!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ashe chuckles. “He said he’d go lower Amira, it’s fine.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I peer down at the bowman. “Heh, I’m being serious. My parents were cobblers. They’d make all sorts of shoes and do repairs. While I’m not great at making shoes from scratch, I can fix them easy enough. And this-” I hold up his boots, “-is an easy fix.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When we get to my dorm, I gesture for him to sit at my desk, then reach for my little repair kit under the bed. Doesn’t take much to repair shoes. Just a few tools and different leathers.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sitting on the floor, I start working away at them. It’s been a while since I’ve done this, but my practiced hands remember quickly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“By the way Ashe, I’ve heard you bargain at the market before, you’re really good at it. And I saw you help Petra out, that was nice of you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand waves down. “Ah, that was easy. It’s nothing special.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shrugging, I say, “Still, it was a nice thing to do. Oh, and I was actually looking for you at the market. I wanted to ask if you would train with me tomorrow for bow practice. Last week I noticed some of the techniques you were using and would appreciate you showing me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He scratches his head. “You’re way better than me, Amira. I don’t think I’ll be showing you anything you don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, Ashe,” I set a finished boot down and pick up the other, “I wish you would just say ‘thank you’ when someone compliments you. If I knew how to do those techniques I wouldn’t ask for your help. You’re talented, and you’re going to be an excellent knight someday. There’s a difference between being cocky and being confident.” I giggle when I look up and see he’s uncomfortable with my compliments. “I mean it! Sooo…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head, but smiles. “Fine- thank you, Amira. It’d be great to train with you tomorrow!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wonderful!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, my dad always wanted me to be as kind to myself as I am to others. You just reminded me of him, so thank you.” He says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I blush under my scarf. “My pleasure. So, what did your parents do?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His face lights up, “They owned a restaurant! My siblings and I cooked in the kitchen with them a lot. They were really happy, kind people… They died from a disease. I miss them, but I’m thankful Lord Lonato adopted us. He honestly saved our lives. I never thought I’d be here, of all places!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right?! I understand that. So, when you cook it must be a nice way for you to remember your parents.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ashe grinned. “That’s why I sign up for kitchen duty so much. Oh, actually,” he checks the clock on my wall, “I should probably head to the dining hall soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, perfect timing then. I’m all done with your boots.” I hand them over for him to examine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, thanks! I really appreciate you doing this.” He stands up and goes to leave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s very easy, I’m happy to do it anytime. See you tomorrow?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Definitely!” He waves and closes the door behind him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Mercedes</b>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We should be weeding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But instead we’re making dandelion jewelry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowns, necklaces, bracelets, rings, and handing them out to anyone walking by. Most chuckle and take them, if just to be polite. A few girls actually put the crowns or necklaces on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something both Mercie and I appreciate about Sylvain is what he’ll do to make people laugh. Right now, that’s taking multiples of each and wearing them all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mercie giggles. “You look wonderful in flowers, Sylvain. You should wear them on your date tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes brighten. “Mercie, you have the best ideas. I shall go now, I have a date to impress!” He smiles at us and leaves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I quietly start working on another dandelion necklace, when I hear Mercie hum and glance at her. “What are you thinkin’ about?” I ask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you like Sylvain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My chest tightens, but I say as nonchalant as possible. “Well of course I do, he’s a Lion and a friend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hums again. “You know that’s not what I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I sigh. “I know. I… I can’t like him. It’s foolish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I don’t think so. He’s different with you, Amira.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha, ha! Oh, he really isn’t. Sure, he doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> flirt with me. Sometimes we have pretty normal conversations, as far as those with him go. But he still has a lot of flirty banter. Although, he’s backed off a bit since the last, uh, encounter… I feel a little bad about my reaction, actually.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She's focusing on weaving a new crown as I tell her about when he tried to tuck a dandelion into my scarf. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>pushed</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, and pretty hard, too. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’d never harm me. I reacted automatically, with no thought.” I sigh. “He’s talking to me as often as usual, but it’s been more… I don't know, formal for him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mercedes is quiet for a moment, then drops her hands in her lap and sighs. “You really don’t see how that’s different from how he treats his dates?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Exasperated, I say, “He flirts constantly with everyone, Mercie. It really isn't.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Except he cares about your feelings. I happen to know he felt bad about that…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My neck actually cracks because of how quickly I look at her. “How do you know?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Sylvain and I have a lot in common. We share the same feelings about Crests, family, marriage proposals, among other things. Anyway, he told me about that. He feels really bad, but don’t you dare apologize for it. He understands why.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighs upon seeing my confused stare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s obvious you wear it because something traumatic happened and you don’t want to talk about it. Sylvain learned he shouldn’t touch it, or push you the way he did. So don’t you dare say sorry. If anything, it taught him to be more thoughtful with personal space.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmm. Thank you for telling me that, Mercie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She clicks her tongue. “Also, he doesn’t care about the feelings or genuinely getting to know the girls he goes on dates with. He likes spending time with you. He feels bad if he pushes your boundaries too hard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And, </span>
  </em>
  <span>when your arm was injured when we went to push bandits out of the outskirts, he was the first to notice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I roll my eyes. “He was right behind me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook her head. “No, he wasn’t. I stay in the back so I can watch and heal everyone. He was further east and made his horse run at top speed to get to you. He checks on you during battles.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re reading too much into it, I’ve seen him help the others, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mercie sighs again. “I love you, Amira. But you can be </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>stubborn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I mock her sigh. “And so can </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We laugh and start chatting about other things, the dandelion jewelry piling up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you enjoyed! I'd love to hear what you think in the comments! &lt;3</p>
<p>Thank you for reading. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Comfort.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Lions comfort a grieving Ashe, and Amira poorly executes tactics to avoid Sylvain.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Blue Sea Moon  </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth is leaning against her hardwood desk, a crease between her brows, not wanting to start the lesson yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the first class since our mission in the Gaspard region went south. We were supposed to clean up after a rebellion broke out, which to Ashe’s great shock and disbelief, was led by his adopted father, Lord Lonato. But a heavy fog allowed him and his soldiers to slip by the front lines. We ended up fighting them, and Lonato didn’t survive. Devastated, Ashe had been permitted to take the rest of the week to grieve the loss of his adopted father, spending much of his time in the Cathedral. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth stands up straight and looks at each of us. “Just because something has to be done, doesn’t mean it’s easy. Sometimes we’ll have to face people we know and have no choice but to kill them. It’s brutal. I hate seeing Ashe and any of you in pain. But we have to keep going. That being said, today’s lesson is not required. Feel free to study on your own or train. But I expect to see you here tomorrow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one moved. Not even Felix, who usually leaves right away to train if a lecture isn’t required. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Personally, I would rather focus on the Professor talking about something than try to do anything on my own right now. It seems others feel the same way. She nods her head and begins the lecture.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As I cross the threshold of the grand iron and stone doors, I can’t help but believe that Garreg Mach’s Cathedral must be the most beautiful one in the world. The inside is just as grandiose as the outside, with its intricately patterned marble floors, dark cherry pews, and stained glass windows depicting the four saints, apostles, or beautiful scenes from the stories in the Holy Book of Serios. Today the sun shines brightly through the colorful windows, casting a dreamy light throughout the nave, filling it with life and hope. And although I do not consider myself religious, peace floods through my body whenever I’m here. From the planters on the balconies, a light breeze carries the sweet smell of lilacs to meet the eucalyptus incense burning off to the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking among the pews with a plate in one hand and a book in the other, I head to where Mercie and Ashe are sitting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I brought you a sandwich.” I say, handing Ashe the plate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sniffles and takes it. “Thanks.” He mumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look above his head at Mercie, who's rubbing his back in gentle circles. He picks up the sandwich and takes a small bite, still staring off into space, tears running down his cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are many things I like about Ashe, one of them being his vulnerability. He doesn’t care about crying in public, which I respect and admire. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Everyone cries,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he told me once, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“it’s not something to be ashamed of.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I pick up the book and show it to him, it’s</span>
  <em>
    <span> Loog and the Maiden of the Wind</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Ingrid lent this to me, I remember she mentioned this is a favorite of yours, too. Mind if I read it aloud?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods and says quietly, “You can start wherever you’ve left off, I’ve read it so many times. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening it, I start to read, and this becomes our routine throughout the week. I bring him lunch and read to him for a little bit, then Mercie comes and prays with him while I go about my business.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s Monday, and today is Ashe’s first day back in class. I make sure I’m a couple of minutes early, instead of my usual couple of minutes late, planning to sit next to Ashe, when I walk into the classroom to find the spot next to him occupied by Sylvain. He’s making the archer chuckle about something, and my heart warms. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s really sweet. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Happy that someone is sitting with Ashe, I take my usual spot in the back of the room. But during the lesson, my attention keeps getting diverted by watching Sylvain. He’s paying close attention to our archer, staying in tune with his needs. When Ashe’s head starts wandering to the side of the room, Sylvain either writes him a note, whispers something, nudges him, anything to help Ashe focus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain does this for the next week, and it seems to slowly help Ashe get back to himself, still with moments of grief, of course. If I’ve learned anything about grief- it’s that it is not linear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s also becoming increasingly more difficult to keep my eyes off of the red-head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few days ago Mercedes caught me staring, which was a</span>
  <em>
    <span> gut-sinking </span>
  </em>
  <span>type of embarrassment. Ashe had a moment in class, I could hear sniffles from the back of the room, and Sylvain was rubbing the archer’s shoulder. It was so kind, and my eyes must have matched the affection sparking in my body, for when they flickered to Mercie to find her looking over her shoulder at me, she gave me a knowing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I told you so’</span>
  </em>
  <span> smile. I sat up straight and pretended to jot notes down, but I could hear her telling me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You like Sylvain.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> I cringe with frustration. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nooooo. No, no, no. Stop looking at him, Amira. Knock this shit off. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun shines through the open doors and reflects off his fiery red hair, and dammit, I watch him the rest of class. My mind is wondering what the curves of his shoulder and back muscles look like, how soft his skin might be, what his lips would feel like on my- </span>
  <em>
    <span>NO. SHIT! STOP! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But I don’t stop. In fact, I’m starting to laugh at his jokes more, gravitate towards him when he’s around, and be a touch nicer. We have our playful banter, but that’s part of the fun with him- teasing is easy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The jolt I needed to get my shit together was at lunch the other day. I had laughed at something else Sylvain said, then Thea made a weird excuse to pull me away before we were finished with our food. Worried something was wrong, I quickly asked her if she was ok. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But oh no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that’s not what it was about. She freaking cornered me and started hammering with questions about my feelings for Sylvain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuuuuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I love Thea, she’s one of my best friends, but she can’t keep a secret to save her life. I squashed her stream of thoughts down hard, and now, I’m brainstorming ideas to get some distance from Sylvain. I need a damn break to collect myself. Because I can’t like Sylvain. I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, I have an easy enough plan. I just need to change my routine! Get meals a little earlier or later, train at different times, and see if I can change what chores I have, since Sylvain and I seem to be together for most of them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Easy!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking up to the bulletin board near the classrooms, I look over the chore sign-up sheet and frown. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not easy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything is full and accounted for. I curse- Sylvain and I are together nearly every day. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ok, backup plan</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Using my finger to scroll along the names of who signed up for Pegasus and Wyvern Patrol duty, I smirk. Petra, Dimitri, Ingrid, Claude, Annette, Leonie… all of them might be willing to trade with me. I remember Sylvain mentioning in passing during a group conversation at breakfast that he is afraid of heights… so this is perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that I’ve ever flown before, but learning sounds fun. And wanting to learn is a perfectly good reason to trade jobs. Now, to ask them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I start with the training grounds, because most of them tend to be there this time in the afternoon. Smiling, I’m pleased to find myself correct.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid is sparring with Dimitri. Her face screwed in concentration, she quickly jabs him hard in the stomach, actually making him bed over and cough. Looks like it hurts, but I’m too impressed by Ingrid to worry about him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand flies to her forehead. “Oh, Your Highness! I’m so sorry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grunts. “No trouble, Ingrid. You’re getting your frustration out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wave as I walk over to them. “Hi, Dimitri. Hey, Ingrid- what’s up? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head. “I just wish the women Sylvain dates or sleeps with will stop talking to me. I don’t understand why they think venting to me would help in any way...” All her muscles tense. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s going on another one tonight! How has he not already dated every woman in the village or monastery? It's just </span>
  <em>
    <span>exhausting</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She sighs, “I look forward to flying later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I perk up, thrilled for the natural transition to why I’m here in the first place. “Oh, that reminds me. Your Highness, I know it’s last minute, but would you consider switching chores with me? I’m supposed to work in the stables, but I want to learn how to fly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waves his hand. “No need for formalities when asking a favor, Amira. I’d be happy to switch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you! I appreciate that, Dimitri.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid beams at me. “Is this your first time flying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod. “I’m great at riding horses, but I’m sure this is going to be a bit different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles. “Yes! Helping you is just the distraction I need today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You have no idea, Ingrid.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucky for me, over the next couple weeks, anyone who signed up for flying duty is happy to switch with me. However, since I’m already proficient with horses, it didn’t take long for me to pick up the differences. So, my reason to switch quickly became moot. Now I just need to wait for the new month, then my strategy is to sign up for a bunch of flying and keep an eye out and fill any missing gaps with other people.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, for today, I have to weed with Sylvain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I fan my hand over my face as I head to the garden. The morning started a little warmer than usual, but I figured I’d still be okay wearing my training outfit- long black shirt and matching pants, my black scarf tight on my face, as usual. But as afternoon approaches, it’s easily the hottest day so far. I can feel tiny beads of sweat on my forehead and back, my black clothes acting as a heat absorber. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As I walk up to the garden we are assigned to tend, I hear his voice behind me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wooow</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Showing up to your shift for a change, Blackwood.” I spin around to find Sylvain frowning, eyebrows knit together, and looking past me as he catches up.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blackwood? He’s never called me that- what the hell?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Not appreciating his attitude, I snap back, “I showed up to my shifts. I just changed what they were so I could learn how to fly. I know how to do it now, so here I am.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking up to the garden shed, I step in and find the weeding tools. Shuffling things around to grab small garden gloves, Sylvain impatiently huffs and shoots his hand in front of me to grab a spade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I jerk back and glare at him. “Personal space, Gautier!” He rolls his eyes, making me hiss- “I don’t understand what you’re so upset about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without looking at me, he steps out of the shed and heads to the north end of the garden. “Doesn’t matter,” he says over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Determined not to play this game with him, I head to a different section and focus on the task. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>About an hour later, Sylvain comes and sits next to me, his back to the bricks I’m leaning over, weeding around the dahlias. He’s staring at a spot between his feet. Still irritated, I ignore him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain is fidgeting with his hands when he suddenly speaks. “Why are you avoiding me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I chuff as I dig harder into the dirt. “I’m not avoiding you, like I said earlier-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-it’s been more than just the chores. You’ve intentionally avoided me in other ways, too. I’ve seen you turn around when you notice I'm sitting at our usual table in the dining hall. Leaving the training grounds as soon as I enter. Not hanging after class to talk…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning back, I use my sleeve to wipe sweat off my forehead. With the hot sun beating down on me, it’s starting to get harder to breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I glance at him, but he’s avoiding eye contact. “You didn’t do anything. I’ve just been busy. Not everything is about you, Sylvain.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s silent, but I can feel his energy shift away from irritation to something else. Guilt hits me as I watch his shoulders sag, the once tense muscles in his face pull down into a frown as he stares at the same spot on the ground between his feet. He takes a deep breath and gets up. Whispering a shaky “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ok</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” before striding away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A rock sinks into my stomach as I drop my garden tool and sit back, resting my forehead in my hands. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course he noticed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Now I feel like an asshole. I’ve clearly been too obvious in my avoidance tactics. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why do I have to like him this way? </span>
  </em>
  <span>I grunt in frustration as I fan my shirt, trying to get air circulating on my hot chest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s so fucking unfair. Why am I falling for someone who would never want commitment? And can be kind of an asshole? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sigh. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>C’mon, Amira, he isn’t always an asshole. It’s just part of the wall he’s built up… which isn’t an excuse by any means…</span>
  </em>
  <span> I ball up my fist and lightly tap my forehead. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s still my friend, and he’s seeing right through my bullshit. Doesn’t matter that I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, the fact is I am.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>I went too far and need to apologize. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Our shift is over. Sluggishly, I put my gloves and tools away, then see Sylvain start to speed out of the garden. With difficulty, the heat really getting to me, I catch up and grab his forearm, making him stop.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sylvain, I apologize for snapping earlier. I’m sorry it seems like I’ve been avoiding you. In an hour, I’ll be heading to the dining hall for dinner, um, meet me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still not looking at me, he throws his head back to give an incredulous chuckle. “Ooooh wow. ‘Seems’? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really?</span>
  </em>
  <span> An hour ago you were mad, telling me ‘not everything is about me’, completely disregarding that I’m right, so now you feel bad and are trying to make it up for it. Some nerve, Blackwood.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jerks his elbow out of my grip, and the motion does something to make my head spin. I’m suddenly dizzy, and before I know it, I’m falling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, what the-!” Sylvain yelps as I hit the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m able to break my fall so my head doesn’t slam on the pavement, but I don’t make an effort to get back up. I’m hot, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really hot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. My clothes have become a sauna, my sweat soaking nearly my entire shirt and scarf. My chest is rising and falling rapidly, and I’m having a hard time controlling my breathing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell? Have you had any water today? Did you take a break from the sun at all?” He interrogates as he touches my shoulders, but abruptly takes his hands away again. “Hey, Blue- can you stand? Or would you like me to carry you to shade?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Help.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” I mumble, trying to push myself up. His strong hands grab my armpits and he picks me up with ease, crouching and putting one of my arms over his shoulders as he leads me to the closest bench with shade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sets me down, and I mutter my thanks as I lean against the wall behind me, thrilled that apparently the sun hasn’t touched this spot, for it’s cool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re panting.” He states firmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I point to my scarf. “After sitting here a minute, I need to get to my room so I can take a break from this fucking thing, and these clothes. I need to start wearing the summer uniform, since it’s a lighter material. I don’t know what I was thinking this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain shrugs, “Today is the hottest it’s been so far, you didn’t know.” He stares at me, his eyes brimming with concern. Then he nods, apparently making a silent decision. Sylvain takes off his shirt, I feel a twinge of disappointment when I see he’s wearing an under-tank. He hangs the shirt in front of me, creating a curtain between us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, take the scarf off.” He says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heh!</span>
  <em>
    <span> What?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He huffs. “I’ll give you a heads up if someone is coming, but take it off so you can breathe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look around, no one has walked by us yet. Probably preferring to stay inside, with heat like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” I pull it down and have instant relief. I lean back against the wall again, his shirt follows me, making me smile. “I’ll just take a few more breaths.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, take your time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes of silence goes by as I press my face into the cool wall and rub one of my temples, trying to soothe my headache. The shirt moves as he rolls his shoulders. Now that my breaths are steadier, I ask, “After gardening for the past few hours, aren't your arms tired from holding the shirt up?” I pause, licking my dry lips, “Or… aren’t you tempted to look?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckles, “Oh, I’m tempted, but I’m not going to. I might be a jerk sometimes, but I’m not going to disrespect you like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butterflies stir in my belly, and Mercie’s words implying that he cares about me echo in my mind. I blush as I tie my scarf on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, it’s back on.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slips his muscular arms into his sleeves, and once his shirt is mostly buttoned, he notices I’m staring at his face and grins. “Like what you see, Blue?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I roll my eyes, but reach out and briefly rub his shoulder. “That was really kind of you. Thank you, Sylvain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs. “I don’t want my friend to pass out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hum joyfully. “I’m glad you’re still calling me that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile tugs at his lips. “Friends can be annoyed with each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I laugh. “True. It’s kind of our thing, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That gets a laugh out of him, too. “Yeah, seems so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stand up, but a little too fast, clearly not as recovered as I thought. Wobbling, I automatically reach for Sylvain’s shoulder, and his hands fly to my waist, steadying me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still holding me, he stands and says, “You should go rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m immensely grateful he can’t see my blush, or feel where my skin is tingling at his touch. Feeling a little more steady on my feet, I take a tentative step back. While his hands are no longer on me, he keeps them held up for a moment, only lowering them when he seems confident I won’t fall again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you want help back to your room?” He asks, a hint of worry in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rubbing my aching head, I sigh, “No, thank you. I’ll manage. But, will you have dinner with me later? If you don’t have plans already, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>have plans…” His eyes twinkle. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re asking me out on a date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I smack him in the shoulder. “But you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>know better, so don’t ruin it.” He bites his lip playfully, making me grunt in slight frustration. “You’re being annoying again, Syl.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face suddenly brightens with glee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whaaaat?” I say, eyes narrowing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tone matches the enthusiasm on his face. “You gave me a nickname!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snorting, I mumble, “Nickname?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain lightly nudges my shoulder with his fist. “You called me Syl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling my eyes, I carefully turn and step in the direction to my dorm. “Stop making things weird, Gautier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m figuring you out more and more, Blue! And </span>
  <em>
    <span>hey</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look over my shoulder and into his bright, handsome face. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives me a dazzling smile, making the butterflies swarm again. “I’ll see you at dinner.” He says as he gives a little wave, and strolls away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed! I'd love to hear what you think. :-) </p><p> </p><p>Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/HiStacyHere/">@HiStacyHere</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chances</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Amira makes a big, nerve-wracking decision.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    <em>Blue Sea Moon.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lion-Ins are my favorite part of the week. We’re not stressing about tests, training, or the upcoming missions. We just enjoy each other’s company. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth used to join us- even helped Hilda and Claude sneak wine a few times. </span>
</p>
<p><em><span>Until </span></em><span>Seteth happened to cross her path while she was holding a couple of bottles and immediately scolded her for being “</span><em><span>a bad example to the future graduates of the Officer’s Academy.”</span></em><span> Or some bullshit like that. So, if wine is to be had, she skulks out, clearly disappointed. She wants us to have fun, so despite Seteth’s other stern talk</span> <span>about making sure we’re not drinking, her last fucks are given, and she does not care at all.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Looking around the crowded room, I beam. I love these people, all of them. Even Bernadetta and Lorenz are growing on me a little. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I go to the back table to pour my second glass of wine, moving to the corner to drink it. People know this is what I do. Eating is easier because I can use a utensil to sneak under my scarf, but drinking is always awkward, needing to turn away so I can drink back really quickly. A water bottle makes that easier, but still. Awkward and getting more annoying by the day. Can’t drink properly with my scarf on, can’t take it off in front of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing, I reflect on how tired I’m getting of wearing it. Besides my dizzy spell with Sylvain a couple days ago, Claude put the </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘take-your-scarf-off’</span>
  </em>
  <span> bug in my ear two months prior after the hot water incident: </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What if they call me a freak?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you honestly think any one of the Lions would say that to you?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, I don’t. I don’t think any of the D1’s in any house would.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My family sees my scars and they never acted disgusted. With them, I only cover myself when we go into town to sell goods, or when strangers pass by on the road, or when I hunt for the men who did this to me. So, wearing it whenever I step out of my room has been new, and more challenging than I thought it would be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>exhausting.</span>
  </em>
  <span> With the weather getting hotter, breathing is so much harder. With how many breaks I have to take during training, Felix is getting more and more impatient about it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I hate the scarf...But I’m scared. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the other side of the room Claude is chatting with Hilda. She keeps sneaking glances at Marianne, who's actually talking with Ignatz a few feet away from her. Claude catches me looking at him and winks before putting his attention back on Hilda, likely trying to convince her to talk to Mari. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Believe in the people closest to you...”</span>
  </em>
  <span> I recall him telling me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My heart begins to race, and my body warms up. I desperately want to believe him... No, I’ll be honest… part of me already does. Over the past few months, all of us have studied, trained, and fought together. They’ve had my back, saved me, worked next to me, respected me, wanted to be friends with me... They have only shown that I can count on them. Claude’s right, I should give them a chance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hilda walks away from him, finally getting the courage to talk with Mari. He makes eye contact with me again. Putting my wine down on the table, I reach up to pull my hair out of its bun. My black curls cascade down to the middle of my back and I start unbuttoning my collar, rolling it down. Claude’s mouth drops, realizing what I’ve decided to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With trembling fingers I work at the knot to untie my scarf. I do it slowly, partially hoping my hands will stop on their own accord- but they don’t. I lay the scarf on the table and wait, my heart palpitating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude beams and swiftly gets to me. Pulling me in for a tight hug, he gives me a kiss on top of my head and a tingle lingers even after he moves away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so proud of you. That must have been hard.” He says as he breaks the hug, and I smile back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or it’s the one and a half glasses of wine I already drank, haha!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My laugh catches someone's attention and a female voice yells, “Holy Goddess, Amira?! </span>
  <em>
    <span>No way!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All heads turn to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This... isn’t quite what I hoped would happen. I guess I couldn’t hope for anything though, I didn’t exactly plan to do this... so I’m not sure what I thought. Maybe that people would notice it, one-by-one? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Nope.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude moves out of the way to let everyone else talk to me. Some give me hugs, all compliment me in some way. Ranging from my strength and resilience, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lorenz</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of all people, tells me- “why hide such a beautiful, brave face?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>relieved</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re accepting me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And I’m done with the fucking scarves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We’re able to continue enjoying our evening in a mostly normal way. Often I rest my hand over my neck to cover it, or move my hair over the right side of my face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sipping at my third glass of wine, I’m trying not to pay attention to people staring at me. I know it’s a lot to take in, so I want to be patient. But even though I’m trying to act cool, this is terrifying. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Breathe, Amira, breathe.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A flash of red catches my eye and I look to that other side of the room. In the corner, an unusually serious-faced Sylvain is talking to Felix, who looks like his normal exasperated self. The red-head has yet to say anything to me. My heart twinges. I wish it wouldn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the evening progresses, more and more people leave to go to bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain is still here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hoping he’ll say something to me, I start cleaning up as a reason to stay longer, hating myself a little for caring enough to make excuses to linger.  I sense someone approaching me and look up to find Claude.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He places a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, heading back to the dorms?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I shake my head. “Naw, someone has to clean up. I feel like doing it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well then I’ll help!” I put my hand on his, which is still on my shoulder, and squeeze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I appreciate the offer, but it’s okay. I can tell you’re tired. Go get some sleep.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s about to respond, probably protest, when Hilda whines. “Clauuuude, what are you waiting for? Walk me back. It’s dark and I’m tired.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the same time I hear Sylvain say, “It’s okay, Felix. Go on to bed.” He starts cleaning, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude rolls his eyes and drops his arm. “Well, another duty calls, I guess. Study tomorrow?”   I smile at him, and he beams back. “I look forward to it,” he says, brushing a finger on the back of my hand before leaving with Hilda, and I feel another lingering tingle. My brow briefly furrows, </span>
  <em>
    <span>huh.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now Sylvain and I are alone, his back to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ok, I’ll just say goodnight and go</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I finish wiping a table when I hear him say my name. Whirling around, I find he’s behind me and standing close- I can smell his lavender soap. He takes another tentative step closer, staying planted when I don’t move away. The warmth of his body radiates onto mine, his breath on the top of my head, and I can smell the spice and plum of the wine he drank.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Too nervous to look him in the eye, I focus mine on his wide and strong chest. I slide my hands into my pockets, resisting the temptation to reach out and touch him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, one of his hands begins to slowly rise to my face, stopping before touching. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My gaze flickers to his warm, brown eyes. Understanding what he’s asking, I take his hand and place it on my cheek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Very softly, he runs his knuckles from the beginning of the scar on my cheek… brushing the corner of my lip, down my neck, making me shiver and emit a light gasp, a blush creeping onto my face. His breathing deepens and his chest rises and falls slower.</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain’s knuckles move over the scar again… his eyes lingering, soaking me in. His fingers move to tuck some of my hair behind my ear and his hand glides to the back of my head, where he curls his fingers into my hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m struggling to keep my breathing steady. I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding? See the shivers through my body? Feel the heat rising in my skin?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes meet mine again, and his lips curl into a stunning, completely genuine, smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Kiss me. Please, kiss me.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he steps back to offer his elbow to me and says in a casual, warm tone, “It’s late. Walk back to the dorms with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A little taken aback by this sudden change, it takes me a moment to register what he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, ok.” I slip my arm through his and he guides me out of the classroom toward our dorms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We get to my room, he walks up the stairs with me and grabs my door handle as I reach out for it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain places his hand on my cheek again, and I can’t help but sink into it. His eyes flicker over my face, and he begins to lean in. My breath catches, then his lips move to my ear and he whispers, “You are absolutely beautiful. Thank you for honoring us with your trust tonight.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, so gently, he kisses my cheek right where my scar begins. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A blush rushes to my face and my flesh tingles, thinking about how I want to grab a handful of hair and pull his lips to mine. How I want to move my hands all over his muscular body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But I’m frozen. Can’t move a fucking muscle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, that doesn’t happen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain drops his hand and steps backwards toward the stairs. “Goodnight, Amira.” He spins on his heels, walking down my steps and around the corner to get to the second floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I go inside and lock my door. Turning to lean against it, I comb my hands to the back of my head, grabbing where he did, and I moan. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I. Am. So</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <b>
    <em>Screwed</em>
  </b>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My chapters are either short or long, lol. </p>
<p>And I finally learned how to create links!</p>
<p>My Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/HiStacyHere/">@HiStacyHere</a></p>
<p>ART:</p>
<p><a href="https://twitter.com/HiStacyHere/status/1358819281060859905?s=20">A profile sketch</a> of Amira by <a href="https://twitter.com/rosentraume/">@rosentraume</a></p>
<p><a href="https://twitter.com/HiStacyHere/status/1357391223988756480?s=20">An action shot</a> of Amira by <a href="https://twitter.com/natendo_art/">@natendo_art</a></p>
<p> </p>
<p>I hope you enjoyed! &lt;3 I'd love to hear any thoughts :-)</p>
<p>Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Tact.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Claude and Amira are studying in the library and they become more... *familiar* with one another.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Tactics is a struggle for me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basic things I understand, like solo missions and whatever I’m ordered to do in the field. But when Byleth assigns us to make a battle plan for the Lions, </span>
  <em>
    <span>plus </span>
  </em>
  <span>our battalions, </span>
  <em>
    <span>plus </span>
  </em>
  <span>the accompanying Knights, that’s just too many people for me to think about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peering through my eyelashes, I watch Claude as he takes a bite of a peach. He’s not supposed to have food in here, but he’s in the library so often and for so long that the librarian turns a blind eye. Right now, he’s really focused on what he’s reading, occasionally jotting in his notebook. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been routine for me to join Claude in the library for late night study sessions. What’s nice is he’s always willing to help me understand something with tactics homework if I just can’t wrap my head around it. Byleth is an excellent teacher, but for some reason the way Claude explains this particular subject makes more sense to me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plus, we’ve become good friends. Claude makes me laugh, is fun, thoughtful, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>insanely </span>
  </em>
  <span>hot. His emerald eyes, especially paired with his signature mischievous smirk, can probably convince me to do just about anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My lips part as I stare at him. His skin is so smooth, hair shiny and full, his braid currently tucked behind his ear... He eats the last bite of peach, licking the juice on his lips… those plump, kissable lips… I tense my body. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What is UP with me? Nope</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Throw these thoughts away!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>On occasion, Thea and Lee still tease that Claude may have a crush on me. But I concluded they’re full of shit. He’s just affectionate with his friends. I’ve seen him give Hilda a kiss on </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>head, and nearly everyone knows she’s fond of Marianne. He hugs people and gives little touches all the time. He spends a lot of time with Byleth, sometimes I see him reach out to touch her but he stops. Only because he remembers she’s a Professor, I bet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So, there!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Evidence it doesn’t mean he </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes </span>
  </em>
  <span>me, likes me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While I may have sensual thoughts about him, I don’t think I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>I-want-a-relationship </span>
  </em>
  <span>feelings for him. Not sure why, I bet we’d be great together. But I don’t get nervous butterflies like I do with Sylvain. My heart doesn’t flutter. I don’t want to spend most of my day talking to him while being wrapped up in his arms… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe a little wrapped up… </span>
  </em>
  <span>I shake my head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ok, yeah, rein these lusty feelings in. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No problem</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noticing my movement, Claude’s eyes snap up and meet mine. “Need some help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I bob my head. “Yes, please. I’m stuck, I have no idea what to do here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets up out of his chair and makes his way to my side of the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! I’m such a jerk! I can’t believe I almost forgot!” As Claude sits down in the chair next to me, I reach in my bag and take out a miniature, wooden wyvern, placing it in front of him. “Happy Birthday, Claude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He beams and picks it up, examining my craftsmanship. “Wow! You’re really good at this. I know exactly where I’ll put it. Thank you, Flash. I love it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He winks at me and pulls his chair closer to see what I have so far, resting his left hand on my back. “Oooh, I see. Ok, so where you have some of your front men are good, but there are too many people over here, and the best place for the archers to be would be on these corners of the field…” He sweetly uses the wyvern as a pointer to show mistakes on my map, explaining the reason behind each correction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, I notice his thumb is rubbing my back, sometimes his other fingers moving gently. I sit up a little straighter. He takes that opportunity to move his hand a little lower.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Problem.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying to stay focused, I ask him to explain the purpose of different battalions again. He leans in closer. I can feel his breath on my neck as he talks, and after the recent encounter with Sylvain, this is making my body warm up and tingle quickly… </span>
  <em>
    <span>no, no, no… Rein. It. In.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flash, did you hear me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I realize I’m doing the opposite of focusing and turn my head to look at him, momentarily forgetting how close his face is already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Our noses are almost touching. I peer into his bright green orbs, smell the peach on his breath and, without thinking, I close the gap, pressing my lips onto his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately, I pull back to check his reaction… joy sparks through me as he grins and kisses me back. At first they’re quick and uncertain, but then one of his hands slides on my check, and they turn deep and long, like he’s savoring me. His tongue slides in, tasting like peach. His hand slides to the back of my head, and he gently grips some of my hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sylvain.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With great effort, I break away to catch my breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claude is scanning my face, likely trying to find a hint to what I’m thinking. This will be hard to say, but I have to. Claude’s one of my best friends, and deserves honesty. I sit up a little straighter, Claude takes his hand back from my head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My cheeks turning pink, I quietly say, “First, that was a very good kiss. Wow.” I giggle awkwardly, he smirks and waits for me to continue. “Second, while I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>attracted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to you… I don’t think I, um, like you in the sense of wanting to be in a relationship. Not that I’m saying that’s what you’re after! I wanted to be clear.. And, well, there’s sort of someone...”  My blush spreads across my face, and any nerve I had has vanished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, he doesn’t take long to respond. “Is there… someone else you like, in that way?” I nod. “Is it Sylvain?” I click my tongue and slowly nod again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yup, that’s my observant friend.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Claude takes a deep breath, then chuckles. “I think we’re in similar situations then.” I tilt my head, signaling him to continue. “We both have feelings for people who would be difficult to have… there's someone else I like, too. But can’t do anything about it right now.” He looks around, even though we are definitely the only ones here. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Teach</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My mouth opens to an ‘o’ shape and I slowly nod my head. “Ah, yes. Similar situations indeed. Yours is a staff member, and mine likes everyone's company with no desire for commitment in sight. Neither of us have it easy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We smile at each other and he takes my hand. “But similarly, I’m attracted to you, too. And that </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a good kiss.” He leans forward, pausing a few inches before reaching my lips. “And while I don’t want to use you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “-</span>
  <em>
    <span>I kinda want to use you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” I purr. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked </span>
  </em>
  <span>that. He’s quick to claim my mouth again, sliding his tongue back in, his hands now holding my face. After a moment, I grab the front of his jacket and pull him to stand with me, our lips glued together. Claude grabs my hips, placing me on top of the library table. He’s standing between my legs, one hand squeezing my thigh and the other on the back of my head. When I feel his hand move higher up my leg, I break the kiss and put my hands on his chest. Our breaths are rapid as I gently push him away, keeping my eyes locked on his to give him the decency to pretend I don’t notice the bulge in his pants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hopping off the table, desire still flickering in me, I awkwardly smile. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wow</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Umm, so… maybe tomorrow we can discuss, um, some rules or something...? And I, um, I think we should go to bed- separate beds!” I shriek. “Our own beds!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claude laughs, and amusement has been written across his face the entire time I was rambling. “I got that, Flash.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We pack up our stuff, and I see him pocketing the wyvern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I smirk. “Oh, and um, happy birthday again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles wide and winks. “I love </span>
  <em>
    <span>both </span>
  </em>
  <span>my presents, thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We head back toward our dorms together, walking a little further apart than we normally would.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Birthday gifts:<br/>Claude, wyvern, obviously.<br/>Caspar- him as an action figure lmao</p><p>(Just fyi- the next two chapters are much longer)</p><p>Hope you enjoyed! : -)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Wounded.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Assault at the Right of Rebirth battle where Amira is injured.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: consent touched on (non-sexual)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Blue Sea Moon</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“MIASMA!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Air knocks out of my lungs as I slam against a pillar, light blinding my eyes from my head banging back and snapping forward upon impact. No time to orient myself, I throw my body sideways. Rolling over rubble and snapping my shield forward, an arrow reverberates off of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Springing to my feet, I launch a dagger at the dark mage’s chest. He dodges at the last second, taking it in the shoulder. My right leg gives out as I dart to take cover behind a pillar, and I force myself to claw and scramble my way behind it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Screams echo in the mausoleum. Lights from magic are flashing everywhere. Dust and small rocks are blasting in the air, adding to the dim and confusion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I grit my teeth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get up!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Glancing around the pillar, the dark mage is making his way carefully amongst the rubble. We see each other and I ready my knife, but his hand is already up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A throwing axe flies past my head. The dark mage lets out a cry and crumples to the ground. Then the tell-tale whistling of an arrow flying above my head, another scream, and the echo of armor impacting on stone. Dedue and Ashe emerge from the darkness. Ashe draws his bowstring, aiming carefully, and loosens another arrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dedue grips Ashe by the shoulder while keeping his voice low. “Guard Amira.” He moves forward through the dust and rubble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ashe moves near me and takes a defensive position behind the pillar.  “Amira, are you fit to continue?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I unsheathe another dagger. “Why wouldn’t I be?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He frowns and tilts his head. “You have an arrow in your leg.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No, I don’t have a-” I look at my leg, “oh shit!” Sure enough, right through the side of my thigh is an arrow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Explains why I collapsed. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Uh, I’ll deal with that later!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I glance around the pillar again. I’m about to throw my blade at a brigand running towards Dedue, when the large armored knight twists with surprising quickness, blocking the oncoming attack and cleaving her head, splitting her skull open. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah, he’s got it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then Dedue stands uncharacteristically still, blood dripping off his axe, staring at the front of the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amira!” Ashe shouts. I whip my head around as he grabs my wrist to bring my arm over his shoulders, pulling me to look toward the north end of the mausoleum. Enemies seem to be down, except for one dark mage standing behind the open grand tomb. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But wait...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s Byleth...</span>
  <em>
    <span> holding an enormous, glowing sword.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A Relic. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With its stone missing.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But… it’s glowing. How is it glowing without the stone?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth swipes at the magical barrier the dark mage summoned, the Relic easily slicing through it. With one more slash, the dark mage falls to the ground in two pieces. She turns around and scans the room, making sure we are all alive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A commotion comes over the back of the room, Ashe takes me with him as he turns, and we see Lieutenant Catherine, with her own Relic sword- Thunderbrand- glowing in her hand, arrive with other knights backing her up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I roll my eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Great timing. Showing up when the battle ends.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Today is The Rite of Rebirth, a ritual to celebrate the Blue Sea Star returning to the sky this month. Devout followers believe the star to be the Goddess’s home, and a grand ceremony is held in honor of this event. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However, after last month's mission to take down the rebellion in the Gaspard region, there was a note found on Lord Lonato’s body. It was evidence implying there will be an assassination attempt on Archbishop Rhea’s life, which of course wasn’t something to ignore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My house was tasked with investigating the Monastery for suspicious activity, which we did with great efficiency. We spoke with every single person on the grounds, and searched every room. Our evidence led us to realize that the note was in fact a distraction, and the real motive was to break into the Holy Mausoleum where the bones of the Goddess Serios are believed to reside. When Byleth and Dimitri approached Seteth with what we uncovered, he made it clear that ensuring Rhea’s safety would be the priority. Byleth and Dimitri realized we needed to handle this ourselves, so here we are.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clearly, our guess was correct. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But instead of finding bones in the coffin, the dark mage found a freaking </span>
  <em>
    <span>sword. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Upon being disarmed by Byleth, it turns out the sword is </span>
  <em>
    <span>A RELIC. THAT GLOWS IN HER HANDS. WITHOUT A STONE.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What. The. Hell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Amira...</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn’t that hurt?” I didn’t realize I’m putting nearly all on my weight on Ashe, who is surprisingly strong for his skinny frame.</span>
</p>
<p><span>I follow his gaze down to my leg. </span><em><span>Oh yeah,</span></em> <em><span>the fucking arrow.</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>Then, the feeling in my thigh dramatically escalates.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numb.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Painful.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>EXCRUCIATING</b>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“FUCK!” My leg starts shaking and I can’t hold myself up anymore, becoming dead weight in the bowman's arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“DEDUE!” Ashe shouts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before I know it, Dedue is here sweeping me up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth runs toward us, the great sword illuminating her in a yellow glow. “Dedue, get her to the infirmary right away! Ashe, go check on Ingrid, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She rushes away, shouting orders at the others.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m launching a constant stream of swear words, staring at the arrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dedue, I need to take the fucking arrow out!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He firmly shakes his head once. “No. You know you can’t do that. I’m taking you to the infirmary now. You’ll be okay, just a little longer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fear strikes through me as I have a realization. “Dedue, don’t let the healers take my pants off! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knits his eyebrows together, but nods and maintains his steady, quick pace, my head leaning on his chest armor, despite the blood splattered on it. My fist is in my mouth, and I’m biting down hard, hoping to distract myself from the pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“AMIRA! Dedue, give her to me!” Someone shouts at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Professor ordered me to take her, Sylvain. I’m taking care of her. Get out of the way, now. Do whatever the Professor has told you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Healers spring on me as soon as Dedue gets me to the infirmary. I’m screaming at the blinding pain as they work the arrow out, my hands white as they clench the edge of the bed. Once it’s out, they use enough magic to stop the wound from bleeding too much. After, they immediately go to remove my pants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“NO!” I shout, but Dedue has already pushed his shield over me, preventing them from touching me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This needs to be done without removing her clothes.” He commands. Especially in his armor, Dedue is an enormous man with a deep voice. People </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While the healers step back, one of them shouts, “This is ridiculous! Miss, we need to see it to heal a wound as serious as this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dedue looks at me for instructions. Trembling, white spots overrunning my vision from the agony, I plead. “Mercedes! Where’s Mercedes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A student shouldn’t heal this! They couldn’t possibly have studied enough to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dedue silences them with a  glare. “You will do what you can in this state. Mercedes is a gifted healer-in-training. Amira has not given you consent to remove her clothes, so you will not.” The healers take another step back. He looks at me to confirm if I’m ok, I nod.  “I will find Mercedes now.” He states.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still in pain, I whimper out a thank you as he strides out of the room to find Mercie.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A healer tosses me a bandage, since I told them not to come near me, spitting curse words as I wrap it tight over my wound, waiting for Mercie to arrive. My fist is back in my mouth, tears streaming down my face as I take rapid breaths. Mercie runs into the infirmary and rushes to my bedside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amira! Dedue said you needed me.” She gives me a look over for injuries other than the obvious one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the healers from earlier comes over, saying with an edge, “Ms. Blackwood refused to remove her clothing for us to properly heal it. She said only you would be allowed to do that. We’ve done what we can over her clothes. We’ll leave you to it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The healer draws the curtains around my bed, and with my eyes full of tears, I look at Mercie. “Thank Goddess Dedue was here, Mercie.” I whimper quietly, “They weren’t even going to ask if they could take my pants off…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She grabs a tissue and wipes my tears off my face and kisses my forehead. “It’s okay now, Amira. I’m here. What would you like me to do? I need you to tell me exactly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take a couple minutes to breathe and control my crying. It hurts so much. It needs to heal, and it needs to happen now. “Help me with my pants, please. Slowly, and Mercie… I’ll warn you.” More tears stream down my face, “There are so many scars. I’m not ready to tell anyone about them yet... Just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>please </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t tell anyone what you see.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She squeezes my hand. “I swear to the Goddess, Amira. You have my word.” I nod, and she starts unwrapping my bandage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As my pants slide down, she pauses a couple times, in shock by what she’s seeing. She says nothing until she gets them down to my ankles and moves her hands over my wound, taking  my legs in as a whole.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A tear falls down her cheek. “Oh, Amira…” She shakes her head and wipes it away, then moves her glowing white hands over my wound. “This will sting a little…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m told I have to stay in the infirmary for an </span>
  <em>
    <span>entire day</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just a flesh wound!” I screech, panic and rage surging through me. “Mercedes did a great job last night. You touched it up. I want to go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Healer pushes me back down when I try to sit up. “Uhg! Young lady, an arrow went through your leg, so it’s not just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>flesh wound. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Also, Professor Byleth signed the treatment form, so take it up with her! You are staying </span>
  <em>
    <span>here </span>
  </em>
  <span>today!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I clench my teeth to keep from screaming. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t stay here… I can’t!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span> She huffs away and out of the room, saying she needs to get something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I hear someone laugh. “Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone </span>
  </em>
  <span>is being an incredibly difficult patient.” The tall, red-headed cavalier strolls into the room and pulls up a chair next to my bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Full of outrage, I snap, “They want me to stay the whole damn day! Fucking stupid! Mercie healed me fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain raises his eyebrows. “I saw a lot of blood running down that leg, Blue. Doubt it’s as minor as you think it is.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhhhg! It’s really no big deal!” I scream, slamming my foot on the uninjured leg onto the mattress. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyebrows almost blend into his hairline. “Wooooooah, and how about I tuck you in and give you some warm milk? You need a nap.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a grunt, I turn my head away from him and stare at the wall. My heart is beating as fast as the thoughts rushing through my head, moving too fast for me to think straight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel like I’m missing something pretty big here…” Sylvain says,  “I’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>seen you behave this way. What happened to get you… </span>
  <em>
    <span>like this?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keeping my eyes to the wall, I can hear my blood pounding in my ears as I mutter, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>They tried to take off my fucking pants.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain chuckles. “That’s it? Ha! I think it would be a nice sight to see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Did he just… laugh?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Are you fucking kidding me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I slowly turn my head, my eyes hitting him as sharp as my daggers. My voice drops an octave, “No. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It isn’t.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He runs his hand through his hair, looking annoyed. “Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>c’mon, Blue</span>
  </em>
  <span>. What could be so fucking awful about- hey!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Done with </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I frantically throw my blanket over Sylvain and try to get momentum to help myself off the bed. My thigh is unable to hold my weight, and I collapse to the floor. Wailing at the shooting agony coursing from my leg, spots of light corrupt my vision again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, no! I need to get out of here!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>For fuck’s sake, Amira!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Sylvain rushes around the bed to help me up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Needing him to stay away from me, I throw my hand up. “I got it! Just back off, Gautier.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then I scream and slam my fist on the floor. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I train every day so this wouldn’t happen! So I wouldn’t be rendered useless!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s when Dimitri comes through the door with a plate of food, finding me on the floor and Sylvain standing above me, both of us looking pissed off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell is going on here?” Dimitri’s eyes are on Sylvain as he puts the plate down on a counter. Sylvain raises his hands in surrender and backs away from me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! Not it, Your Highness! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blackwood </span>
  </em>
  <span>here is being difficult.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grabbing the edge of my bed, I’m struggling to get back on when Dimitri rushes over. Before I can protest, like I’m light as a feather fucking pillow, he sweeps me up and places me back onto the bed. As pain bolts continuously through my body, cold beads of sweat appear on my face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Starting to feel dizzy, I press my hands over my eyes, and I can picture Sylvain’s outraged face behind my eyelids. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>made the shit joke, Gautier!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clicking his tongue, he sneers. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What joke? </span>
  </em>
  <span>EVERYTHING is pissing you off, you could be mad at ANYTHING.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How dare he come in here and mock me? How dare he not even try to understand? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Get the FUCK out of here!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” I hiss through my clenched jaw, now curling my hands into my hair, feeling my scalp ache where I'm tugging the roots.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri strides over to him and places a hand on his shoulder.  “Sylvain, I think you should leave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glares at the Prince before shaking his head and turning on his heels, storming out of the infirmary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Prince takes a deep breath, picks up the plate of food and sets it on my bedside table, replacing Sylvain in the chair. I cross my arms and stare at the ceiling, fuming. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri is quiet, waiting for me to speak first. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Nope. Not going to do it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a while he lets out an exasperated sigh. “What’s wrong, Amira?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I shake my head, then regret it. Feeling it spin, I rest my hands over my eyes again, then press my lips together so I don’t snap at the Prince. Unless he orders me, I just want to be left alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Firmly, he says, “Amira, as your House Leader, Prince, and friend, I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Letting out a shaky sigh, I say, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Your Highness.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As I recount the interaction between Sylvain and I, my heart quickens, throat tightens, and I’m feeling dizzier. My breathing becomes erratic as I stutter, “T-t-then I t-tried to get up, a-and I f-f-fell. I couldn’t g-get up!” My breath catches and my lungs burn. For a moment I panic, thinking my lungs have stopped working, then I let out a resounding sob, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t move!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” I take a desperate gulp of air, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dimitri, I can’t move!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hyperventilating and sobbing, it takes a while for me to calm down. All the while Dimitri is gently reminding me that I’m in a safe place, surrounded by people who care about me, and that I’ll be ok.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once I’ve stopped, now just focusing on taking steady breaths, Dimitri helps me sit up and gets a glass of water. He sits on the edge of my bed as I take a sip and wipe tears off my eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keeping my gaze fixed on the glass, my voice raspy from crying, I say, “Sylvain didn’t deserve that, did he?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Dimitri says. “He came here because, like all of us, he was worried and wanted to check on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I nod in acknowledgment, then take another sip of water. “Being here, it reminds me… This is the first injury in four years that’s more than a quick fix. Not being able to move... it’s like I was back </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” I shudder. “I’m sure this sounds stupid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>Looking at him, I notice the blue and</span> <span>pain in our eyes match. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri runs a hand through his hair. “A lot of things bring me back to that day. When Ingrid utilizes a jab Glenn taught her. The way Felix says certain things. When Sylvain acts like a big brother. When I see my face in the mirror, I think of my father. I look just like him. Sometimes it’s hard for me to stay in the present moment.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I place my hand over his and squeeze. He turns his palm up, and we hold on and stare at one another for a moment, until my stomach rumbles and I remember the plate of food he brought. I let go and reach for a sweet bun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I appreciate you bringing some food. And my favorite thing, at that.” I take a bite.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When I finish chewing, I look in the Prince’s eyes. “Thank you, Dimitri.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gives me a small smile and pats my shoulder. “Of course.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fucking leg.” I grumble as I sit on a bench in the courtyard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m a shit patient. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My instructions are to take it easy, don’t train or walk around too much for a few days. Just a few, simple days. But nooo, I’m restless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I just met Byleth in our classroom. She told me off, in her mild way, for how I spoke to the Healers during my brief time in the Infirmary. Honestly, she was clearly told to talk to me. Her voice might be fairly monotone, but I’m starting to understand what her little gestures mean, and I can tell she doesn’t care much. I gave Dimitri permission to tell her about my stay, and she understood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m making my way to the Cathedral to find Mercie, wanting to chat about when she can check on my injury, but in the short distance from the classroom to the other side of the courtyard, I already become sore and hobble to this bench. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How irritating</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As I’m resting, Sylvain comes around the corner to my right, strolling through the courtyard toward our classroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We’ve been avoiding each other for the past 24 hours. I haven’t been ready to apologize. A mix of being extremely embarrassed by my behavior towards the Healers and him, and frustrated I injured myself in the first place. Also quite humiliating that the future King of Faerghus witnessed my childish fit. Even though, yes, he’s empathetic and we had a nice bonding moment... but still… </span>
  <em>
    <span>the future fucking King.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anyway, now I’m ready to apologize.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Sylvain?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stops and glances around to see who said his name. When he realizes it’s me, he keeps walking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sylvain!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not stopping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sylvain!</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’M SORRY!” I shout. Everyone in the courtyard turns to throw me confused or annoyed looks before going back to their business.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He finally stops. Turning on his heels, he speeds straight to me. My skin is starting to prickle. Part of me thought he’d be over it, he usually likes to bounce back to his cheerful self... but I can tell he’s still mad. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stops right in front of me, and I slowly meet his eyes. His face is blank, arms crossed, just one eyebrow raised at me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yikes.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Umm, will you please... umm... sit down?” I gesture to the spot next to me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Exhaling a loud breath, he sits sideways on the bench. His right knee pointed at me, and elbow leaning on the back, his head resting in his hand. Those dark brown eyes are looking right into mine, but I can’t keep the hold. Looking down at my hands in my lap, I bite my lip before speaking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I owe you an apology. I’m really sorry for being an asshole yesterday. You were just checking on me and I bit your head off. My reason doesn’t make it an excuse. What matters is I treated my friend like shit.” I force myself to look at him. I don't want the tears to well in my eyes, but they do anyway. “I care about you. So, I’m really sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain’s face shifts from blank to concern, and he pulls me in for a hug. “I appreciate you saying that, Blue. I accept. And I’m sorry, too. When I cooled down, I realized how insensitive my reaction to the pants thing was. Well, Mercie helped, to be honest. She’s good at getting me to see the other side of things.” He pulls me away from his chest and looks down at me. “You said you had a reason?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I start playing with my hands again. “Yeah, but I don’t need to get into it…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands slide down my arms to hold mine. “Well, you sort of brought it up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something about the warm feeling of his hands in mine prompts me. “It's just… hmm…” I shake my head vigorously. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He squeezes my hands. “I understand.” His eyes flicker over me, “where are you going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To find Mercie, I think she’s in the Cathedral. I need to talk to her about checking on my leg.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods. “Wait here. I have a meeting with the Professor, but it shouldn’t be long. Then let me help, ok?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you don’t have to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to. Just wait, please?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing in defeat, I nod. Sylvain gives me a sweet, small smile, then raises one of my hands and places a kiss on my knuckles, sending a jolt down my spine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be right back.” He says as he stands up and walks to the Blue Lions classroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I bite my lip, trying not to smile widely as the tingle of his kiss lingers on my hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you liked this chapter! This was the first battle I ever wrote, so I hope you enjoyed it. </p>
<p>Thank you for reading! I’d love to hear from you!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Eagles.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Amira has 'supports' with the Eagles.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Verdant Rain Moon.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Edelgard </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s late.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moon is high above me, casting its soft light on the pavement as I carefully limp my way from my dorm to the steps leading to the dining hall. I have to sit and rest frequently as I make my way up the stairs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Damn this fucking injury.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since I haven’t been able to do much, I’ve been restless and getting terrible sleep. So, deciding I couldn’t stare at my ceiling for a moment longer, I’m off to find some leftover sweets in the kitchen and eat up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally managing to hobble my way through a door, I find someone has the same thought as me tonight... Except they’re rushing toward me with a raised axe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Throwing my hands up in defense, I yelp, “Hey! It’s just me!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Realizing it is indeed an ally, Edelgard exhales and sheaths it. “I thought it might be an intruder, with all the noise you were making. Aren’t you supposed to be the stealthy one in the Blue Lions?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I chuckle. “Well, not on this leg! I’ve been bored out of my mind. I couldn’t stand staying in bed another moment. So, I decided to go on the short adventure from my room to eat some sweets.” I look over her shoulder. “It looks like you had the same idea, then?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Behind her, a table is strewn with plates of cakes, some already half-eaten. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blushes, “Sometimes I can’t sleep, either. Guess I was meant to have company tonight. Let me help you to the table.” She puts my arm over her shoulders and helps me to a seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Smiling, I watch as she sits across from me, flipping her white hair to rest on her back. I’ve had very few opportunities to interact with the Princess of Adrestia, since she rarely attends the Lion-In’s on Fridays. Which is too bad. While I see her interacting with her fellow Eagles, especially her vassal, Hubert, she just always seems so… lonely and serious, like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Strumming my fingers on the table, I ask, “So, this is going to seem random, but I’m wondering what you’d like me to call you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tilts her head. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I shrug. “This is the most we’ve spoken, and I hear people call you different things. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lady </span>
  </em>
  <span>Edelgard, Edelgard, Princess, Your Highness, Thea calls you Edie, so I wanted to ask how you’d like me to address you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pleasantly surprised expression forms on her face. “You can call me Edelgard, thank you for asking.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I nod. “Of course! Edelgard it is.” I take a fork from one of the silverware baskets on the table. “Were you going to finish these half-eaten ones, or can I help myself?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her brows knit together. “I’m done with those, but I don’t mind getting you new slices!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I shake my head. “Oh, no, I don’t like wasting food. Unless you’re very sick with something contagious, I don’t care about eating leftovers. I have too many siblings to care about stuff like sharing food.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” Edelgard grins as she pushes one of the partially eaten cakes toward me. “This is lemon, it’s delicious. How many siblings do you have?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nine. And I’ll be clear, we’re not siblings by blood, but we call each other such.” I see her eyebrows raise. “I grew up with travelling merchants.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods. “Oh, that’s right. That’s why you can whittle carvings. Thank you for making me the eagle, by the way. We didn’t know each other, you really didn’t have to do that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Setting my elbow on the table, I lean a little forward. “I said I’d make all D1’s something for their birthday. I’m not about to leave someone out. Oh, and when is Hubert's birthday? He’s the only one I haven’t written down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, it was the day before we even moved into the academy. He hates presents, anyway.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I look at her incredulously. “Hates presents?! Pfft. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ok</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Uh, let’s try this... what does he like?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard laughs. “Besides politics and business? Hmm…” After thinking for a moment, her face lights up. “Chess! And he hasn’t been able to play because he’s missing the white queen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perfect! And very easy to make. I appreciate having a little project.” Finishing the lemon cake, I reach for the half slice of chocolate. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wow</span>
  </em>
  <span>, these cakes are good. If my family ever visits, Winston and Molly will want every slice of chocolate they have.” I glance up at Edelgard and notice she’s smiling again. “Do you have siblings?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My heart sinks when her smile melts to a frown. “I used to. Not anymore.” Her eyes flutter to her plate. “They all died of an illness.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I slowly reach my free hand out and pat hers. “I’m really sorry to hear that. My condolences, Edelgard. I hope they’re resting in peace.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Amira. I appreciate your sentiments.” She takes her hand back, and eats another bite of what looks like to be strawberry cake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I ask her about good memories she has with her siblings, and we end up swapping stories about life with a large family. Calling each other the wrong names all the time, the constant sharing dilemmas, how so-and-so got a bigger slice of dessert, all sorts of amusing nuisances. Well, amusing when you miss them. The exchange seems to make Edelgard both happy and sad at the same time, but she keeps engaging.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After getting our fill of cake, Edelgard kindly helps me back to my room. We wave goodnight, and even though now my stomach hurts more than my leg at the moment, I’m glad I had the opportunity to share multiple slices of cake with the real Edelgard, the woman behind the title. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Caspar</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I fall to the ground. Again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dammit!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I was just trying to step normally down the stairs from my dorm, not the slow, calculated way I should be doing it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But my leg gave out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So here I am... </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the bottom of my steps... </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Laying in the dirt</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As I’m trying to think of the best way to get up, Caspar comes down the stairs from the second floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Amira! Are you ok?” He asks as he walks up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yuh know. Just </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>following Healer's orders.” I reach my hand out, indicating I’d like help up. Instead of taking it, he scoops me up, cradling me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I throw my arms around his neck. “Ah! Caspar!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where yuh heading? I can carry you there! It’d be like training!” He says with his naturally loud voice, sounding quite thrilled with his idea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I can’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm. “Next time, if you could ask before picking me up, that’d be great.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grimaces. “Oh… yeah. Oops! Sorry!” Caspar’s face brightens again. “But still! How about for my training, I carry you around? I bet it’d be nice for you to get out of your room, but not hurt your leg! Is that okay? </span>
  <em>
    <span>C’mon!</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’ll be fun!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After taking a moment to weigh the pros and cons, I decide. “Ah, fuck it! I’m so damn bored. If you’re truly up for it, then why not! I was on my way to breakfast.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Woohoo! Let’s go!” With that, he starts jogging to the stairs leading to the dining hall, then briskly climbs up them. So far, I’m impressed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Honestly, I’ll be surprised if he lasts a quarter of the day. I’m not denying Caspar is a very strong person… but he’s not Raphael. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, if </span>
  <em>
    <span>Raphael </span>
  </em>
  <span>offered to carry me around all day, I know I’d be easy training for the man who </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally </span>
  </em>
  <span>runs through the Oghma Mountains carrying bags of rocks. THEN hauls logs around. THEN DOES MORE THINGS. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’d be a feather for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Caspar? Well, as I said- I’m bored as hell and am looking forward to an adventure. Plus, he is a loud, genuine, funny person, so I expect this will be a fun day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sets me down in front of a table, and I slide into the bench as he gets breakfast, kindly bringing me oatmeal. His plate is piled with heaps of food, including scrambled eggs and bacon. He scolds me as I quickly nab one of his biscuits, but we happily brainstorm ideas of what we should do today.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>First, Caspar takes me to the training grounds where he heard an inter-division lance tournament is taking place. Sitting on the sidelines, we cheer on our friends through each round. This takes up most of the morning, and when it’s over, Caspar slowly claps while I ecstatically scream for Ingrid, who, being the badass lance queen she is, </span>
  <em>
    <span>annihilates </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ferdinand, winning the tournament. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ferdinand, ever the good sport, extends his hand and congratulates her. “Well done, Ingrid! I am in awe of your prowess, please permit me to train with you in the future!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She takes his hand. “Sure, Ferdinand. It was a good fight!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once everyone, except people waiting to train, clear out, Caspar asks if I can show him how to throw daggers. He grabs a couple knife belts from a rack and sets a target stand just thirty feet away from where I’m seated on a bench, and until lunch I show him techniques and we practice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As his last dagger hits the very edge of the target, he scratches his head and looks at me. “I think I’ll stick to grappling and axes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Snorting, I nudge him. “Sorry, but I have to agree. Uhhh, lunch?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caspar rubs his stomach. “Yes!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He squats in front of me and I climb on, getting a piggy-back ride to the dining hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When we get to the packed dining hall, a lot of people start laughing at us. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude thinks the whole thing is brilliant, citing that my restlessness has made me irritable as hell. Laughing, I further prove his point by showing him my middle finger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain is weirdly possessive, wanting to take over carrying duty. I quickly shoot him down, mostly because I wouldn’t be able to keep my shit together if I were that close to him all day. He feigned hurt feelings. Well, at least I think it’s fake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard thinks it’s humiliating. “Caspar, Amira, you do </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>how it looks, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I shrug. “Like Caspar loves training in unique ways and is helping a friend out at the same time?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caspar smiles and nods enthusiastically. “Plus, I’m gay, so does it matter?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard and I exchange looks of surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I didn’t know that!” She manages to say after a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ditto.” I say before taking a sip of water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? Lin and I have been together for-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I spit my water back into the cup. “-</span>
  <em>
    <span>Lin? </span>
  </em>
  <span>As in Linhardt? As in… </span>
  <em>
    <span>you and Linhardt?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caspar looks between our stunned faces and laughs. “Yeah, we’ve been together since before we got to the academy. Well, childhood best friends at first, but a few months before arriving we started a relationship. He’s not into PDA.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard lets out an exasperated sigh. “Can’t believe I didn’t know this!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhh, is it ok with him that you’re talking about it?” I ask timidly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caspar gesticulates wildly with his hands. “It’s not a secret! Although, I’m used to his private nature… If he wasn’t like that, I’d be shouting my feelings from the rooftops!” He rests his arms and strums his fingers on the table. “Some people are filled in. I think Thea and Hubert are the only Black Eagles now who don’t know. But again, not a secret! Feel free to spread the word!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard and I exchange final looks of surprise before genuine smiles creep on our face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that’s great. Happy for you two!” I say, my spirits buoyed higher by the unexpected good news.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard expresses similar sentiments, making Caspar’s ears turn red, and she heads to collect her own lunch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finishing lunch, I get up and sling an arm over his shoulders so I can get a little walking in, and we decide to do some fishing at the pond. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, Caspar does some fishing. I prefer to watch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s sitting in a chair at the edge of the water, holding a fishing pole with one hand, the other resting on his lap. I’m in my preferred spot, with my socks and shoes off, dangling my toes in the water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know you're making my attempt to fish pointless, right?!” Caspar booms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pointing to where his fishing float is bobbing towards the center of the pond, I say, “First of all, your bobble thing is way over there. Second, you just shouted and that doesn’t help either. Thirdly, Alois is on the other side of the pond,” I point at the white-armored General, who’s west of us, “and he’s been yelling his frustrations about his inability to fish for the past half hour! So nothing will be caught today, my friend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gives a small laugh and shrugs defeatedly. Keeping his line in the water, he just focuses on conversation. He tells me some childhood memories of him and Lin as kids, I counter with some memories of playing with my siblings. We just relax here the rest of the afternoon, until it’s time for dinner, then I permit him to carry me up the stairs. Once at the top, I ask to exercise my leg a little more, keeping a firm grip on his shoulder as he carefully steps alongside me to the buffet table. He quickly gathers food and waits patiently for me to drizzle some berry sauce on my roasted pheasant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Very slowly, we make our way to the nearest table where Felix, Ingrid, Dimitri and Sylvain are sitting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, hello Amira! I heard Caspar was helping you around today. Were you able to adequately get out of your room?” Dimitri’s gentle blue eyes meet mine once I manage to slide on the bench next to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure did, thanks to my blue-haired hero!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caspar guffaws. “Hero! I like the sound of that!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coming from the direction of the red-head, I hear an unintelligible mumble and the sharp sound of his fork scraping the plate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you say, Sylvain?” Ingrid asks him, a line etched between her brows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Sylvain grumbles, now cutting his slice of steak with more aggression than necessary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Felix snaps at him, “Tch! What the hell is your problem today? You’ve been in a mood since lunch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>been weird... What’s going on?” Ingrid presses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He retorts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caspar and I keep eating in awkward silence, and Dimitri is looking at his friend, concern etched on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain snaps his gaze to meet the Prince’s. “Shut up!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri’s ears turn red and he mumbles out, “Oh, my apologies.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Boar, you didn’t say anything!” Felix sneers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri slightly tilts his head, frowning. “Oh, right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain drops his silverware, making them clatter on the plate, and he slides out of the bench. “See you all tomorrow.” He says with a hardened expression as he storms out of the dining hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The fuck was that about?” Felix says exasperatedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of us shrug or mumble ideas, such as maybe he was turned down by a potential date, then move on to different topics for the rest of dinner and dessert. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once we finish the last bites of pudding, Caspar helps me back to my room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I open my door and beam at Caspar. “I really appreciated today, it was a lot of fun hanging with you. I definitely owe you a bunch of favors.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caspar waves a dismissive hand. “Naw, I had a good day too. I was happy to help. You better start following Healer’s orders, ok? I don’t want to find you at the bottom of your stairs again tomorrow!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I throw my head back in a laugh. “Ok! Fine. I’ll be better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We bid each other goodnight, and on my way to the bed I grab a book, reading until I fall asleep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Linhardt</b>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The library is busy in the afternoons. A lot of students are here trying to get their homework finished in order to enjoy the rest of their evening.  I’ve been here for a few hours, sharing a table with Linhardt, who has been sleeping the whole time. I’ve gotten a lot of work done, but I’m starting to lose focus, absentmindedly doodling in my notebook instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I hear a little sleepy noise from my table mate and glance up to see Lin is finally starting to wake up. “Good afternoon, Lin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rubs his eyes and yawns. “Good afternoon.”  He looks around the library. “A lot more people are here now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup. You’ve been out for a couple hours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, I see. Well, I guess I will continue where I left off.” He stretches, then looks down at the book he used as a pillow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With Lin’s pale skin, it’s easy to notice the dark circles under his eyes. The frequency of his naps concerns me a little. I feel like it’s odd to be so tired all the time, but it’s also none of my business how he decides to catch zzz’s. But… I’m curious.  “So, Lin. I have a theory-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He puts a finger up. “-hypothesis. A theory is something that is already supported by a lot of research and data by professionals, a hypothesis is an assumption made before any research has been compiled.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oooh, ok! Then I have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>hypothesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I believe you need to nap so much because you have a sleeping disorder.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lin shrugs. “I have insomnia and a demeanor that tires easily. I read through the night and take lots of naps during the day. I wish people would stop talking about how I need to change my sleeping habits.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I point my pen at him. “I didn’t say that. I was simply stating my hypothesis. Your life, if you want to take a bunch of naps during the day then go for it.” I look back down at my notebook and continue to work on my doodle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm. You always give people the benefit of the doubt, don’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I chuckle. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Some</span>
  </em>
  <span> people. You just happen to be one of them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a few moments all is quiet between us. I figure he went back to his reading.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amira, I also have a hypothesis.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I raise an eyebrow and glance back at him. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks down at my paper, reaches out and points to my doodle. Takes me a second to process what I had actually drawn, and I freeze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, fuck, fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I had drawn something I’d prefer not to be asked questions about. So, of course I accidentally doodled it in front of Lin, who for being a sleepy guy, is very observant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I focus on keeping my cool. “My doodle?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolls his eyes. “Looks like an intentional drawing, not so much a random doodle. That’s a very specific design.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pushing down the lightning crackling through my skin, I try to be nonchalant. “I don’t know what to say to that, Lin. I’m just messing around.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With his finger, he traces my design. “Your ‘messing around’ is drawing two branches and a circle with an eye in the middle?” He retracts his hand as I swat it away. “That seems pretty specific.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I flip to a new page in my notebook. “What else can I say? Apparently, I have a strange imagination.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm, I see you as a mystery. You keep yourself covered, even during summer. Your scar. Your reluctance to talk about your past. The symbol-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>-doodle.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs. “You’re being difficult.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keeping myself calm, I casually say, “You’re putting meaning to something that doesn't have any.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lin leans back in his chair, rubs his eyes and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, I’ll drop it for now. This is becoming more of a nuisance than interesting, anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Relief that this conversation is shelved, at least temporarily, courses through me. I set my pen down and massage my injury, sore from my determination to walk to the library myself and from sitting here for hours. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No pleasing this damn wound. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We spend the next few hours studying in silence, me being careful to not draw the symbol again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Dorothea</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wanting to get out of the Monastery grounds for a night, Dorothea and I make our way to the village.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As we approach the swinging doors to The Wyvern’s Head Tavern, we abruptly need to jump aside as a scrawny, pasty man bursts through, stumbling toward a wooden flower trough and vomiting into it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I force down a sick feeling as bitterness fills my mouth, and we try to give him a wide berth as we approach. Using my elbow, I push the door open, disgusted by the thick layer of grime covering it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Classy place, Thea.” I mutter over my shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her nose scrunches up, obviously getting a whiff of the potent smells of body odor and beer permeating the air. “This admittedly isn’t what I expected when Manuela said this is her favorite place to drink...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reaching my hand behind my back, Thea grabs and holds it tight as we carefully weave between the patrons of the tavern. No one seems to care about minding their own space, with bodies suddenly moving and bumping into us, until we finally find a little table near the back. The rickety chairs scrape along the rough wooden floor as we sit down and take in the stuffy space.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A decent lutist is singing and strumming away in a corner, and he flinches as a patron flicks a coin in his face, the metal sliding down the front of his shirt. The bard beams and shouts a thanks, clearly just happy for the recognition. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are a couple barmaids walking around, with one or two sitting on the long bar, the men sliding a hand up their dresses as they use the other to swig their tankards back, beer spilling out and dribbling down their necks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maiden! Two mugs of beer!” Thea shouts confidently, throwing two fingers in the air, the sleeve of her teal dress sliding down and showing her gold bangles, as a barmaid nears us with a tray full of empty tankards.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“TWO MUGS!” The maiden yells in the direction of the bar, getting an ‘aye!’ in response from the men behind it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clearing my throat, I’m sure to speak loudly over the eruption of laughs from the table next to us. “Been in a tavern before?!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Many times!” She says in equal loudness, a hand now playing with one of her dangling earrings. “As a young orphan living in the streets of Enbarr, I often snuck in to steal food off plates or half-drunk mugs of beer, just so I could have something in my belly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crossing my arms on the table, I lean forward. “That sounds brave of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea tilts her head back to momentarily look at the ceiling, slightly shaking her head. “I did what I had to in order to survive, and I’m-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Our barmaid clanks two mugs on the table, the contents slightly splashing over. Reaching in my pocket, I give her a few silver pieces, and Thea contributes a couple gold ones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Keep them coming!” Thea states as she drops the gold in the open hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bar maiden smiles wide at the generosity. “Deal!” She shouts as she slips off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea takes a sip before continuing, “I’m in a significantly better place in my life now. I can look back and find value in what I learned as a street urchin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I flinch at the dirty name. “Ah, don’t call yourself that, Thea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes narrow. “That’s what I was, Amira, and I will never let myself forget. It’s why I’m the strong person I am today.” She says, pulling her shoulders back and sitting up straight, making her big, perky breasts stick out. Someone to my left whistles, and distracted, she looks over and flashes a smile in the direction of the call before putting her attention back on me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will always be grateful to Manuela for discovering me, and making sure I had a better life singing with the Mittlefrank Opera. But it was certainly not perfect, I’m sure you’ve heard of how I was able to attend the Academy.” Thea’s proud shoulders droop, her smile falters, and her fingers start to rake through her hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After taking a long swig of beer, I look at her seriously. “I’ve heard things, and if they’re true-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-they are.” She interrupts, now taking a long gulp of her own drink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who the fuck are people to judge, eh? While most of my money to pay for the Academy came from selling my carvings, certainly not all of it did. I’m sure people would disapprove at how I earned some of mine.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My eyes trail away from Thea, at first distracted by a small dog zigzagging through the crowd, cleaning up scraps of fallen food. Then my mind drifts to the coins I took off one of the two men I killed before Academy... </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...We were selling in Remire Village when I found my first culprit. Throughout the day, I followed him until I knew where he slept. In the dead of night, I snuck through his open window. Shaking with nerves, my hand slipped on the sill and I crashed to the floor, obviously waking him up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a scramble, he had me in a choke hold, and as I gasped for breath, I had enough will to love to take another dagger out of my belt and stab him repeatedly in the face, then the chest when he collapsed to the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spitting his blood out of my mouth, I used one of his shirts to wash the rest off before rummaging through his things for any clues to where the other culprits might be, but there was nothing. As I searched his body, I found a blood-soaked bag of money. He must have finished a big job, because there was a good amount of gold, so of course it went toward my tuition. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was the first human life I’d taken. At that point, I had only practiced on animals while hunting with my Aunt Patricia and Uncle Marcus, who are the only two adults of the group who fully support my quest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dog in the bar, begging for food at a nearby table, barks. It snaps me back to the present moment as I hear Thea say the words, “-came from?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sorry, I didn’t hear you. The dog distracted me...” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I was just… I probably shouldn’t ask it.” Thea mutters as our barmaid comes back, setting full mugs of beer down and taking our empty ones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take a sip from the fresh mug. “Aw, please? Now I gotta know what you said.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea’s ears turn red. “Well, I have two questions. You said not all your money came from selling your carvings… did you do what I did?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, that’s not what I did.” Her face falls deeper. I stand slightly to lean farther across the table so I can whisper to her. “And Thea, not everyone has the privilege to have their parents pay for everything. You deserve to be here like anyone else.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I lean back in my chair and see Thea is blushing, a smile creeping back on her face, making me happy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Amira. So… what you did… is that, erm… how you got your scar?” My face falters in surprise, and she slaps her hands over her face covering her eyes, and she quickly starts to backtrack. “I’m sorry! Oh, I knew I shouldn't have asked that!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reaching across, I pull one of her hands away from her face. “Thea! I was just surprised! I’m not going to be mad at you for asking a question!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still looking embarrassed, she takes a couple chugs of her beer. After swallowing sips of my own, I sigh, “That is not where my scar came from,” I give her a kind smile, “That’s the first time you’ve asked me outright. I promise I’m not mad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her jade green eyes sparkle, her posture straightening again, and she gives me a cute smile.  We continue drinking and chat about this and that- her crush on Petra, the wonderful side of being an opera singer, how my leg is finally healed, and some of our favorite songs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this moment, we’re laughing about something ridiculous Ferdinand had said to her a few days ago, when a large man with beer slopped down his shirt stumbles over to our table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With all the charm of a demonic beast, he gazes at Thea and grunts, “Hey beautiful, can I buy yuh a drank?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea gives him a polite smile. “No, but thank you for asking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He puts his hand on our table and leans over her. “How ‘bout you jus’ come ‘round back wit me, then? Ditch this freak, and</span>
  <em>
    <span> feel what a man is like.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In just one bleary blink of his drunk eyes, a fireball is alight in Thea’s hand and one of my daggers is pressing into his rotund belly. I slowly stand up, and look up into his greasy, porous face, with the cold stare I save for killing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Putting slightly more pressure to his belly, I rasp, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Back. The fuck. Off.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rage flashes onto his face as he puffs himself up to full height, towering down at me. “The FUCK do you think you can do, you little freak!?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I swiftly move my dagger, pressing the edge of my blade to his jugular, my other hand grabbing his beard. Tilting my head back, I yank his beard down, and his eyes linger on the scar across my throat, his eyes widening in fear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Do I look like the kind of woman who’s easily intimidated? Or easily killed?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea stands, her flame glowing brighter and reflecting in her eyes. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Leave.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The large man nearly </span>
  <em>
    <span>runs </span>
  </em>
  <span>away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, we are extremely pleased with ourselves for terrifying the man, before we’re told we have to leave for frightening the other patrons.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We smile and laugh all the way back to our dorms, deciding we had a night out we’ll always remember.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Bernadetta</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I scare the living shit out of Bernadetta.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure, she’s terrified of everyone. But to Bernie, I think I’m up there with Hubert when it comes to being creepy, which I find highly offensive. I don’t like being compared to Hubert </span>
  <em>
    <span>at all.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m trying not to be too upset about it. The fact that my scar is not just large, but also goes along my throat… I’m sure most people are very put off that I’m alive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, I’m quite surprised to find Bernie following me. I’ve seen her do this to Edelgard and be terrified when confronted. Hoping to make this easier on her, I walk into the dining hall to get some dinner before sitting down. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s a public space, what could I possibly do in a public space?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>I smirk as a tray is set down across from me, and I quickly flicker my eyes to confirm that, yup, it’s Bernie. Worrying I'll spook her by acknowledging her first, I decide to wait for her to speak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you mad at me or something!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I snap my head up and meet her gaze. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ok, so ignoring is also bad. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Speaking quietly, I glance back down at my plate. “I just don’t want to scare you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The color drains from her face completely. “SCARE ME? Why!? Because you’re plotting to kill me?! AHH!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Gods- Bernie!” I shout as she falls off the bench, scrambles to her feet, and runs out of the dining hall, leaving her dinner and slice of chocolate cake behind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t mind her, Amira. She does that to people.” Linhardt says softly, sliding Bernie’s tray away and taking her spot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know.” Picking my fork up, I stab a potato, and eat it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>But it bothers you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I swallow, then stab another potato. “Ahh, yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because you believe people are scared of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My hand pauses in midair. “Strangers, yeah. I’m clearly not that scary once someone actually talks to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lin smirks. “We’ve all seen you fight, and there are few things scarier than that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My fork clinks as it hits the plate. “Sorry, are you supposed to be helping me feel better, or worse?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lin rolls his eyes. “I had no goal in mind when I sat down. How you feel is yours to determine.” His eyes scan my face, and he squints before asking, “Are you going to tell me about the symbol, yet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I stiffen, not expecting that to tumble from his mouth. Unfortunately for me, he is good at reading body language. “So it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>a symbol.” Lin says haughtily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, Lin, but it’s still just a doodle.” Standing up, I grab Bernie’s forgotten tray. “I’m going to bring her dinner to her. See you later,” and I speed out of there before he can get another word in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When I’m in front of her dorm, I use my boot to tap on Bernie’s door. “Hey, Bernadetta… you didn’t get a chance to eat, so… I brought your tray.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I hear a slight commotion in her room and press my ear to the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stupid Bernie! So bad at doing everything! Can’t even eat with someone!” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As I listen to her berate herself, my heart sinks to my stomach. I feel a wave of sympathy toward her instead of my usual annoyance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Poor kid. She’s clearly gone through some shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I set the tray down. “Your tray is right outside the door, Bernadetta. Um… Please remember to eat. Ok, bye.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take just one step away when the door opens, and look over my shoulder. Bernie bends down and picks up the tray. Focusing on my shoes, she mumbles a quiet thank you, and shuts the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Smirking, I feel pleased that she didn’t scream it was poisonous or something and throw it in my face. I call this a step in the right direction.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Ferdinand</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My steps echo as I walk down the marble steps of the Entrance Hall toward the market. There are always some people hanging around here, typically knights on a break from guard duty, or people passing through to either get to the market or dining hall, or visa-versa.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When I reach the bottom of the stairs, ahead I see a flustered-looking Ferdinand standing with a woman from the village, who looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>pissed</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ferdinand’s hands are up in front of him. “No! M'lady, you are mistaken, I’m not-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>SLAP!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ferdinand’s hand flies to his cheek as he backs away from the woman who just laid a hard smack across it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not even the decency to remember me! You’re an awful man, Sylvain!” She screams before storming off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh shiiiiit.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” I say under my breath as I approach the orange-haired noble. “Ferdinand! Damn, that looked like it stung… are you ok?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s staring out of the entray hall doors and into the market where the woman ran off to, his mouth slightly open in disbelief. I step in front of him, blocking his view, and wave my hand in front of him. “Ferdie? Hope you don’t mind if I call you that...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine…” His golden eyes flicker to mine as he lowers his hand and frowns. “That poor woman…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He says that with such sincerity, it makes my heart warm up. From what I’ve learned about Ferdinand during our Friday Lion-In’s, it’s that while he can act like a pompous Noble, he actually cares about improving himself, unlike Lorenz. He genuinely wants to be more aware of when his privilege shows, what commoners themselves want versus what Nobles think they want, and has an energetic curiosity. I’ve appreciated his warmth and ability to actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ferdie looks back in the direction of where the upset women stormed out, and he lets out a frustrated breath. “It’s maddening how Sylvain treats the village women. No one deserves that.” He starts rubbing his chin in thought. “I’ve tried to guide him to see better ways, but he gets so angry! You’re in his house, I’m sure you see this more often than I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I chortle. “Ingrid hears the worst of it. But yeah, it sucks, to put it lightly.” My heart twinges. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Especially if you’re developing a very irritating crush for the philanderer</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Have you been mistaken for him before?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head. “No, this is a first. It’s definitely curious, I do not think we look alike at all!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My eyes wander over his orange hair, which is not only much lighter than Sylvain’s fiery red, but combed neatly, while Sylvain prefers the just-rolled-out-of-bed tussle. Plus, Ferdinand always keeps his uniforms pressed and carries himself as most Nobles do, standing straight and always with an air of pride. Yeah, he and Sylvain are </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite </span>
  </em>
  <span>different. Makes me wonder if that woman really did go on a date with Sylvain, how can </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>forget a face like his?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ferdinand’s golden eyes meet mine again, a dreamy glint in them. “A woman should be treated with respect and care.” He smiles brightly. “When I start courting, I will be sure to bring a bouquet of flowers to every meeting to demonstrate my devotion! I will treat her as a princess, no matter her birth. And when I propose, there will be flowers and petals strewn everywhere, many gifts among them, a violinist serenading us as I recite a poem!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Ferdinand continues his burst of declaration, I stare at him, feeling a mix of amusement and being overwhelmed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe from seeing the look on my face, he snaps back to the present. “My apologies, Amira! I’m prattling on. How are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m fine. I haven’t been mistaken for someone else and slapped in the face today, but it’s still pretty early.” Smirking at him, I add: “And it sounds like you’re quite a romantic. I think many women would absolutely adore that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rests his hands on his hips. “Do you not think all women would like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not everyone likes the same things, Ferdie! That would probably overwhelm me, personally. But the right woman for you will love it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ferdinand looks at me curiously. “What makes you feel loved, Amira?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take a moment to think, before my family crosses my mind. “Well, in my family we tend to do things for each other instead of directly saying how we feel. I mean, we tell each other ‘I love you’... but, for example if one of us is sick, we chip in and take over their chore duties and stuff. Or do something to help soothe them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ferdinand shakes his head. “That’s lovely, but I mean by your potential life partner?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After laughing heartily for a few seconds, I say, “Sorry! It’s just… that’s obviously not in the cards for me, Ferdie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Offense crosses his face. “That’s awfully pessimistic! I wouldn’t expect that from you, to be honest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I shrug. “It’s true. I know I don’t exactly look like an ideal wife.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anger flashes in his eyes. “Please don’t speak this way about yourself! Amira, there is a person for everyone. Please do not sell yourself so short, for you are extraordinary.” He puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Never forget that.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m extremely touched. This kind of praise is not what I expect to receive, making me incredibly flustered. “I, um, </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That was nice to say.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His face lights up with optimism. “So you believe me?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a tittering laugh, I say, “Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But the sentiment is really kind and appreciated. Consider it noted. Anyway, I need to get some supplies in the market. See you around, Ferdie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning on my heels, I head to the market, leaving a slightly baffled Ferdinand behind. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Hubert </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As I finish climbing the stairs to the second floor dormitories, I realize I have no idea which room belongs to Hubert. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right on cue, Edelgard walks out of the girl’s washroom on my right. “Hi, Amira. What brings you up here?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! I finished Hubert’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>belated birthday present. Which room is his?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard lights up at my comment. “You made it! His room is right next to mine.” She takes my hand and pulls me along the hall until she reaches her door. “That’s Hubert’s room.” Edelgard smiles as she points at the door next to hers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I reach my hand in my pocket and pull out the Queen Chess piece I whittled. “Think he’ll like it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She beams at it. “He will, in his unique way.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I nod. “Good enough for me. Thanks, Edelgard.” I take a few steps to his door, and raise my hand to knock, hesitating a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Am I the type of woman who can be intimidated easily? </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, absolutely not.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Hubert might be the only exception. Just his presence in a room gives me chills. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pushing my nerves aside, I knock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the other side I hear a shuffle, then Hubert opens the door a crack. “What is it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, uh, have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>late birthday present for you.” I say a little gauchely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opens the door a little wider and scowls suspiciously. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I scuff my boot into the carpet. “I, uh, promised I’d whittle everyone something, it’s a skill of mine, and I recently learned your birthday was in Great Tree Moon. I didn’t want to miss anyone.” I open my hand to show him the white chess Queen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes widen in surprise. “How did you know I was missing this piece?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I jerk my head to the right. “Edelgard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hubert grumbles, “Thank you. Is that all?” I nod. “Have a good day, then,” and he closes the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling that went alright, I start walking back down the hall to see Edelgard is still standing in her doorway, glee radiating off her, making me grin. I point towards Hubert’s door. “Did you listen to all that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She giggles and nods. “He really likes it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I shake my head. “I don’t understand how you can tell... but you’ve been friends a long time, so I guess it makes sense.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If he didn’t like it, he would not have taken it.” Edelgard eyes twinkle at me. “That was really nice. Most people here are scared of him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I whisper, “Uh, I find him kind of creepy, but I’ve met worse.” I tap my scar. “And some people find me scary, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods. “I see. Well, thank you again. Bye, Amira!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My pleasure. See you around, Edelgard!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I head off back to my room, thinking about whether I should make a chess board, then immediately cringe at how many pieces of wood I’d collect to make what I’d like.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Petra</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Laughter and chatter echo off the mountains as a small group of us make our way along the wide dirt trail towards Oghma Lake at the east side of Garreg Mach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the third day of Verdant Rain Moon, which is Dedue’s birthday. While our stoic giant </span>
  <em>
    <span>says </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’d prefer to have this day unacknowledged, the Lions simply do not have it. Knowing he enjoys swimming, we happily invite any D1’s who want to spend time at the lake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trailing in the back with Claude, I lightly touch each redwood tree, which are getting fewer and farther between the closer we get to the lake. We watch as our bathing suit clad friends make their way along the path.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just in front of us, Annie is looking up the mountain, where two waterfalls cascade to the lake. She doesn’t seem to realize she’s singing aloud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I love swimming! Swimmy, swimmy, swimming in the big blue lake! It is cold, brr! But it is fun to jumpy on in and swimmy, swim, swim!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Felix is near Annie, kicking at little rocks, making them skitter off the path. He glances over his shoulder at the petite red-head, a tiny smile creeping on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oooh! Dedue, what flower is this?!” Ashe exclaims as he picks a dark red flower and inhales. “It smells like chocolate! Here!” He hands it to Dedue, who smiles appreciatively as he takes it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a cosmos atrosanguineus. You’re correct, they usually smell like chocolate.” He responds with a tone of amusement as Ashe beams in delight. “You should pick some more. Mercedes would enjoy these.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ashe nods and continues to pick them as they walk along, now gathering a nice bouquet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“HEY CLAUDE!” Caspar yells from the front of the group with a big grin on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude cups his hands over his mouth. “WHAT!?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“RACE YUH TO THE LAKE!” With that, Caspar turns on his heels and bolts down the trail.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“CHEATER!” Claude screams as he sprints away from me and after the blue-haired grappler.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Claude! Caspar! DO NOT FALL! There are no healers with us!” Dimitri shouts somewhat pointlessly, since the runners have already turned the corner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” Sylvain says reassuringly, patting the Prince’s shoulder. “If they fall, they’re the type of guys who will deal with the consequences of being stupid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dorothea has been practicing healing magic. She has much understanding!” Petra says happily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea blushes. “You’re always so generous, Petra. I’m only just learning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You healed my cut from training yesterday! That is of importance. You are gifted.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I smirk as Thea’s finger brushes the back of Petra’s hand, both women now smiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As we round the corner, straight ahead we see the large, crystal blue lake. Excited, my friends pick up the pace. I only jog just to keep up. Once we reach the large patch of grass that frames the lake, they throw their towels, shirts or swimsuit covers on the ground where Claude and Caspar already have, and get into the water. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dedue, Sylvain, Dimitri and Petra run to a tall rock to the right of us, climb up and jump in, while Felix, Annie, Ashe and Thea wade carefully into the cold water. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Swinging my bag off my back, I plop down and take my shoes and socks off, feeling the soft grass as I watch my friends enjoy themselves. As they splash, swim and occasionally dive under the surface, my delight at watching my friends have fun fades. My lips tug down as I look at myself, stuck in these long clothes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Closing my eyes, I envision the years before the incident when I could wear a swimsuit without a care. When my skin was free of imperfections, free of judgements. When I didn’t have to be afraid of what others thought, or careful about what I did to ensure no one would see my body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that I’ve ever swam. My parents wanted me to learn, but I was always afraid to go too deep into the water. So, my preference is to either sit in the tide and let the waves gently pass over my legs, or sit on a rock and dangle my feet. But the only rocks here that’d allow me to dip my toes would mean I’d have to wade further in than I’d like. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look like the Spirit Aidivni.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Snapping my eyelids open, I look over Petra before meeting her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While I believe everyone here to be beautiful, Petra is one of the more striking women. With light caramel skin, smooth except for the few scars received from battles, high cheekbones, and sparkling amethyst eyes that match her long, braided hair. Besides the arrowhead tattoo under her right eye, she has tribal bands on her biceps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I force a corner of my lip to turn up. “Who’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Petra kneels in the grass in front of me, her wet hair dripping on my feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In Brigid, she is the spirit of envy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I grimace. “Oh no, I didn’t realize my face was reflecting my thoughts.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Faces often reflect such things. Eyes are paths to our soul.” She touches her hand over her heart. “What do you feel envy for, Amira?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heat moves to my cheeks. “I, oh, it’s nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She points to my eyes. “That is not the truth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I let out a sigh of exasperation and mutter, “I’m jealous I can’t swim.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Furrowing her eyebrows, Petra asks, “Why can you not? Because you do not know how, or that you wish to not take off your clothing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking down at the grass, I feel heat in the back of my throat as I say, “Both. And…” I sigh, “I miss when I didn't have to care about my clothes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Petra’s wet hands take mine, and my gaze meets her amethyst eyes again. “I have understanding. You could have that again, but not until you are ready.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I squeeze her hands back, and my eyes dart to her tattoos. “I’ve wanted to ask, Petra, what do your tattoos mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still holding my hands, Petra stands up and pulls, encouraging me to stand with her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“These are marks from Brigid. The arrowhead is a prayer to the forest spirits. A prayer to be protected. There are many spirits in Brigid. The markings on my arms and back,” she turns, showing me the tattoo of half a sun between her shoulder blades, “are prayers for my family’s health and triumph.” Her smile grows brighter. “Someday, you will visit Brigid with me and get a marking! It will be here.” She taps the middle of my chest. “It will be for Soele, the spirit of forgiveness and healing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Warmth fills me up again, and I find my smile. “That’s beautiful Petra, thank you. It’d be an honor to see your home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Petra beams at me, then starts pulling me toward the water. “And now, you must be learning swimming!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My eyes grow in shock. “Uh, no! I just thought I’d read a book while-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do not think so!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My clothes!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hands grip tighter on mine. “Your clothes matter not! They are lightweight, and you will not go too deep.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>As I step into the water, a visible shiver runs through my body. “This is colder than any water I’ve felt!</span> <span>How are any of you standing this?” I ask as Thea and Ashe near me.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Ashe chuckles, wiping water out of his eyes. “I’m happy to see you finally joining us in the lake, Amira!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Third time's a charm!” Thea chimes, pushing her wet hair back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve been here more times…” Ashe ponders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I haven’t. Typically I avoid coming, unless I feel like reading by the lake.” I squint at Petra, “Key word: </span>
  <em>
    <span>reading</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Petra clicks her tongue. “That is not making sense, reading can happen anywhere.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulls me along until I’m knee-deep, Ashe and Thea encouraging me with each step, but I’m anxious. “What if my clothes get heavy and I’m pulled to the bottom? Or if seaweed catches my ankles?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This lake doesn’t have seaweed, Flash.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And c’mon, Blue, do you think we wouldn’t save you? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But what if </span>
  <em>
    <span>ooh-</span>
  </em>
  <span>” I snap my head to look at Claude and Sylvain, only to be mesmerized by their ridiculously gorgeous bodies, the water droplets on them sparkling as the hot summer sun shines down on them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While I’ve been becoming a little more, uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>intimately </span>
  </em>
  <span>familiar with Claude’s body as of late, he’s still a breathtaking, chiseled Almyran God.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Sylvain… I’ve seen him in his bathing suit twice before, and I’ve been flustered both times, needing to bring the book up to my eyes as a barrier to stop me from openly gawking at him. It’s like he’s carved from marble. His broad chest, strong shoulders, rippling abs, arms that could pick me up and-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No. Nope</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I put my attention back on Petra. “I’ll go a little farther.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude reaches a hand toward me. “Swim with me, Flash. I’ll help you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain slaps a hand on Claude’s shoulder. “I’m much taller, friend, and can take her out farther.” Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>hand reaches toward me, “C’mon, Blue.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glancing between the two outstretched hands, I’m grateful when Petra waves her hand abruptly at them, making them step back in surprise. “Amira is putting trust in me, you leave her be!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guys start sputtering. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go!” She snaps, and they slowly step back in the water, until Claude pushes Sylvain in and dives, swimming frantically away from the red-head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea rolls her eyes. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Boys</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” then she winks at me, “So, Sylvain </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>Claude, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I look between her and Ashe, the latter now blushing. “Oh my gosh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no Thea!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” I whine, my teeth starting to chitter as I realize I’m suddenly waist-deep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I’ll just…” Ashe awkwardly says, and heads toward the large rock, where Dedue has jumped off again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m about to scold Thea, when Petra interrupts, “It is now time for you to hold me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold you?! Why?!” I shriek, alarmed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Petra puts one of my arms around her neck. “Because now we will swim.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And before I can protest, she falls back, taking me with her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Was there a particular support you really liked? I'd love to hear from you :-) </p>
<p>Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Worked Up.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Amira and Claude are *definitely* warming up ;-)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HEY HEY! --&gt; Ok, this is my first attempt and a *tiny tease* of smut. (It is in the tags that it would happen eventually)</p>
<p>and just a tiny chapter after last weeks long af one lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The past few weeks, Claude and I have, um- <em> certainly </em>warmed up.</p>
<p>To make sure we keep this between us, we made some clear rules: </p>
<p>No touching each other in front of others. <em> Easy. </em></p>
<p>No more make-out sessions where it’s easy to get caught (this is mostly about the library). <em> Eh, failed a few times. We still kissed there after the last patron would go, but what if someone came back? So, one of us would either leave when the last person would, or move to a different table if we had to study. </em></p>
<p>Continue checking in about our feelings to make sure we stay on the same page.<em> I’m proud of how well we do that. </em></p>
<p>So, it’s mostly been meeting at night a couple times a week... behind walls, far away from our dorms, among bushes... I’ve said no to our rooms, because I know that would lead to, well, a tricky situation.</p>
<p>Cause, oh, do I <em> want </em> to… <em> you know.. </em> . <em> Go all the way. </em></p>
<p>But…</p>
<p>I don’t want him to see my naked body… and I’m not sure how to work around that yet.</p>
<p>But for now, we’ve figured something out. He slips his hands down my pants, and, at this point, he’s not permitted to feel anywhere else. Not all my scars are smooth.</p>
<p>For two weeks after my injury, we kept it pretty tame since I couldn’t stand for too long. But once I was back to normal… <em> mmmhmmm </em>...</p>
<p>Tonight we’re meeting in a particularly genius spot Claude found. On the other side of the fishing pond is a long wall and a windmill, and he discovered between the two there is an alcove that seems to be for abandoning broken tools. Pretty good as far as isolation goes.</p>
<p>Walking around the corner, I find Claude waiting. Tonight, there is something else in his eyes besides lust, but <em> hurt </em>. </p>
<p>Concerned, I start to ask if he’s ok but he cuts me off with a passionate kiss, pulling me in close to his chest, stepping backwards until his back hits the wall. To get some air, I pull his braid to move his head back, making him groan.</p>
<p>He leans against the wall and holds me closer. He pulls my thigh up to squeeze it as he grinds his hard length against my center. As he kisses the crook of my neck, desire ignites and warmth spreads in my body, coursing with need. </p>
<p>I nibble his earlobe and coo, <em> “Touch me, Claude.”  </em></p>
<p>With a moan, he quickly switches places, pushing me against the wall. Claude is licking, kissing and nibbling my earlobe and neck. Heat curls down my spine as one of his hands slips under my leggings and underwear, fingers working my clit. </p>
<p>“<em> You’re so wet, Amira. </em> ” He purrs in Almyran, which he defaults to while we’re intimate, making me <em> swoon </em> . <em> “Does that make you feel good?” </em>He says as he slides a finger into my sex, and catches my loud simper with his kiss. </p>
<p>Grinding my hips against his hand, I use his shoulders to brace myself, and he grazes his lips along my neck, continuing to whisper softly in his native tongue. After many minutes of pleasing me this way, I run my fingers through his hair and moan, “Claude, ooh, I’m going to come.” </p>
<p>He slides in another finger and pumps faster, curling his fingers to hit the right spot, and uses his thumb to tease my clit at the same time. It doesn’t take much longer for me to fall apart, my body shaking, and he keeps his mouth over mine to stifle my cry of pleasure. </p>
<p>We might be well hidden, the windmill might make loud creaking noises, but anybody could definitely hear us if we’re too loud.</p>
<p>I’m panting as he slides his hands out of pants, and puts his fingers in his mouth, <em> tasting me </em>.</p>
<p>
  <em> Holy fuck, that’s so fucking hot. </em>
</p>
<p>Grabbing his shirt, I whirl him around so now his back is against the wall. I take his hand and put the two fingers into my mouth, licking and sucking them. His eyes are hungry, his breath quickening as I also rub the bulge growing in his pants. Dropping his hand, I get on my knees. Starting to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants, just the act makes him groan. </p>
<p>I’ve given him hand jobs, so I know it’s big, but this is the first time I’m blowing him, and from <em> this </em>angle, I realize how thick it is. I lick his shaft before putting as much of him in my mouth as I can. </p>
<p>“<em> Feels so good,” </em> he groans, grabbing a handful of my hair. From the way he’s tensing his thigh muscles and squirming, I can tell he’s restraining himself from thrusting, so I move faster and suck harder. He takes one of his hands from my head, and I flicker my eyes up to see him biting his fist, probably trying to stop himself from gasping too loudly. After some time he manages to breathe out, “ <em> I’m going to come </em> , <em> " </em>and I take his load, swallowing it.</p>
<p>Wiping my mouth, I stand up. He grabs my hips and brings me in for more kisses. After pulling up and buttoning his pants, he leans against the wall and pulls me to him, letting my head rest on his chest, and he wraps his arms around my waist. </p>
<p>After holding each other for a while like this, his grip tightens and he whispers in Almyran, “<em> Amira, I want to be inside you. I want to pleasure you with my mouth… you know I think you’re absolutely beautiful. </em>”</p>
<p>More pink creeps into my already flush face, and I respond in his language, “<em> Oooh, If you’re going to talk to me like that, I really hope you touch me again. </em>” </p>
<p>Then to my surprise, <em>he</em> <em>does</em>, and slips two fingers inside me- making me yelp in sensitivity and pleasure- I move a leg up to give him a better angle. After some time, and greatly enjoying him biting my nipples over my shirt, I release <em>again</em>. Falling against his chest, I’m tired and tingling from my second orgasm.</p>
<p>After a few moments, I kiss his neck before stepping away and sitting on one of the barrels along the alcove wall. “I’m not complaining, allll that was great, <em> so wonderfully great </em> … but what has gotten into you tonight? You were more, um, <em> urgent </em> than usual...”</p>
<p>He steps in front of me, his emerald eyes considering me, and rubs his thumb on my chin. “...Are you sure you want to know?” He says, returning to speaking Fódlanese.</p>
<p>I slump my shoulders. “Claude, are we still on the same page? That this is… just that? <em> This? </em> I still have feelings for… ummm… despite knowing I can’t have him.”</p>
<p>Claude grins and sits on the barrel next to me.  “Yeah, we are. It’s just… today Teach and I… I feel like we had a moment. We were having this long conversation about the Sword of the Creator, Crests, all sorts of things. She even opened up about her past a little, I did too. I told her I’m part Almyran.” I raise my eyebrows in amazement.</p>
<p>“I know. Surprised me, too. And…” He runs a hand through his hair. “There was an opportunity for me to kiss her… but, then she abruptly got up, mumbled something about being late to go somewhere, and left… I felt like an idiot, and got worked up.” </p>
<p>I bob my head vigorously. “Yeah, yuh definitely were… and that sounds tough. Again, perfectly blissful with the performance here.” I grin, “But yes, I understand that. With how much of a flirt <em> he </em> is, I feel like we have a lot of those. Well, not lately, I’m trying to hang out with him a little less. I admire how you’re spending <em> more </em>time with Byleth.”</p>
<p>He looks at me, concerned, “Why are you trying to see less of Sylvain? And why are you being weird about saying his name aloud?” When Claude said his name, I snapped my head around, like suddenly someone would appear to hear our conversation. </p>
<p>With a whine, I say, “I don’t know. I just haven’t said my feelings with his name out loud yet.” </p>
<p>Claude puts his hand on my thigh and shakes me a little. “Say it.”</p>
<p>I blush. “No.”</p>
<p>He grips my chin and makes me look in his eyes. “<em> Say it. </em>”</p>
<p>I roll mine and swat his hand away. “Fine. I… hmm… <em> like Sylvain </em>.” Aaaand I feel my whole face turn beet red, my heart fluttering. </p>
<p>Claude is beaming. “Well done! And you never know, Flash. Sylvain might be a bit of an idiot, but he obviously likes spending time with you.” </p>
<p>Hesitating, I try to not sound too eager as I say, “Uhh, what do you mean, ‘obviously likes’?”</p>
<p>“Ha! He’s an idiot, you’re a bit ignorant… great combo here.” </p>
<p>I smack his shoulder playfully. “Tell me what you’re talking about!”</p>
<p>He clicks his tongue. “Have you not noticed how most of your chores are with him? I know you sign up way ahead of time, and while waiting to sign up myself, I saw he <em> happens </em>to choose to be with you most of the time.”</p>
<p>Shrugging, I say, “I have noticed… but, I doubt he <em> intentionally </em>signs up to be with me. He’s just last.”</p>
<p>Claude grumbles, “And you think no one else wants to do chores with you?”</p>
<p>I just shrug in response.</p>
<p>Claude scratches his head, then his face lights up. “Oh! <em> And </em>he has your rocking horse on his desk.”</p>
<p>Waving my hand dismissively, I say, “Well, that’s where I told him to put it.”</p>
<p>Claude shakes his head. “He keeps his door open when he studies, hoping someone will say hi and distract him. He moves it around, taps it so it sways, sometimes he’ll just hold it. For a guy who will inherit a Relic and has the money to buy literally anything, that little wood horse seems to be his most prized possession.” </p>
<p>My mouth hangs open a little. “If that’s true, then… ok, fine, that’s pretty cute and flattering to hear. But as long as he’s still going on all these dates… does it matter?”</p>
<p>Claude lifts his arms up. “It might! He’s sensitive. My guess is he was burnt badly by someone, or multiple people, and he’s overcompensating to try to make himself feel better. Except it’s doing the opposite and creating a cycle of him feeling like shit about himself, wanting love, but sabotaging it before he gives anyone a real chance.”</p>
<p>“Ha! Oh, is that all?” I shake my head and frown. “Honestly, I don’t think you’re wrong.” </p>
<p>Claude strokes my cheek and leans in to give me another kiss, managing to erase my frown, which I know he didn’t like there. </p>
<p>“What a weird arrangement we have, huh?” I ask.</p>
<p>“Yeah, but I’m happy with it, and I know you are too.” He winks at me, and we laugh together.</p>
<p>He’s right. For now, we’re both good with this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Gonna be honest, I've been feeling really discouraged and down lately. If anyone is reading this, I'd deeply appreciate hearing from you. Even if it's just an emoji- I swear that'll give me wings LOL. (it can be about what you think of the story so far and not just this chapter, w/e you want) </p>
<p>:-)</p>
<p>Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Holding.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Amira comforting Sylvain after the death of his brother</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Horsebow Moon.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What has your breakfast done to you now?” I ask, sitting down next to Felix as he pushes his plate of food away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eggs are dry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glancing between him and the eggs, I roll my eyes and switch our plates.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, mine are perfect, so eat up, Kitty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glares at me. “Tch, stop calling me a fucking cat, Blackwood.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>a fucking cat, Felix. In so many ways, all of which I’ve explained to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I stick my tongue out at him. “Don’t waste food.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grumbles, but picks up his fork and starts eating. Shaking my head, I start on my unplanned breakfast. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s ridiculous how often this happens with us. Felix hates his food selection a few times a week, and for whatever reason my plate seems to be more appetizing. Doesn't say thanks and just eats whatever I give him. And every time, I don’t understand what was wrong with what he had in the first place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My guess is this is his way of saying he trusts me? Felix expresses how he cares about people in the weirdest ways. With Annie, it’s asking her to sing her silly songs. He yells at Sylvain about his recklessness in battle. And for Ingrid, it’s taking over her chores when she’s hurt, snapping at her if she tries to do them herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But what do I get? Cold plates of food. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lucky me.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ingrid and Dimitri arrive, sitting across from us, and they are talking about Sylvain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He hated his brother, I don’t understand why he’s still shut in his room.” Ingrid states, “And Miklan was </span>
  <em>
    <span>awful </span>
  </em>
  <span>to him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The image of a gigantic, black beast flashes in my eyes. Great horns ran along the spine, body thick as armor, teeth the length of lances protruding out the wide mouth, and eyes red as blood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been about two days since our mission to take back the stolen Lance of Ruin, the Relic belonging to the Gautier’s. Sylvain’s older brother, Miklan, had stolen the Relic from his parents' estate. Since Miklan didn’t have a Crest, the Relic possessed him, transforming him into a gigantic monster. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>None of us had seen anything like it, not even Byleth. We had no choice but to kill him. It must have been especially hard for Sylvain, who has told me bits and pieces about growing up with Miklan. He hated Sylvain because he was born with a Crest, and tried to kill him on multiple occasions, including pushing him in a well, where he was lost for hours. When Miklan was an adult, he was stripped of his inheritance and banished from the Gautier estate, leading him into a life of banditry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He was still his brother, Ingrid. He witnessed him turning into a monster and was forced to kill him. It’s disturbing even if we didn’t know Miklan.” Dimitri says, then takes a bite of his eggs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ingrid swallows her bite of bacon. “Well, he’s probably hungry. He’ll have to come out soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I snap my head up and look between the three of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, he hasn’t left his room at all?” I ask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only to use the bathroom.” Felix says under his breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Won't speak to us and slams the door in our faces.” Dimitri says as he shakes a bizarrely large amount of spices on his eggs before taking another bite. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I cock an eyebrow. “So… have </span>
  <em>
    <span>any of you </span>
  </em>
  <span>brought him food?” They look at each other, then blankly stare at me. I lay my fork down. “Sylvain hasn’t eaten since we’ve been back? You live next to him, I figured </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>of you would. Wow, ok then.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amira, Sylvain likes space when he’s mad about something. He’ll come out when he’s ready.” Ingrid tries to explain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not mad, Ingrid. He’s grieving.” I sigh and stand up. “I’ll take care of it. Which room is his?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The last one. Very end of the hall.” Ingrid says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Going back to the breakfast table, I fill a clean plate with biscuits, jam and butter, and after grabbing a cup of his favorite tea, bergamot, I put them on a tray and head to the dorms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When I get there, I use my foot to tap his door. “Sylvain? It’s Amira. I have food and tea for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I already propped the men's room door and called his name on my way down the hall, no one seemed to be in there. So, if it’s like our friends have said, he’s in his room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Syl. Open the door.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing. I set the tray on the floor and take a pin out of my hair bun. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to give you the count of ten before I pick the lock.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I countdown out loud. Still hearing nothing, I begin jiggling the lock and smile when I hear footsteps on the other side. Having no idea how to pick locks, I’m lucky my bluff worked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I should ask Ashe if he’ll teach me sometime, I remember him mentioning he can do that. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The handle turns, and the door hangs open. I pick up the tray and use my foot to push the door open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain is sitting on his bed, wearing a wrinkled white shirt and black sweatpants. His legs are spread apart, elbows on his knees and he’s resting his forehead in his hands. Looks like sitting or laying on his bed is all he has done, his room is spotless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After putting the food and tea on his desk, I close the door and stand in front of him, butterflies now fluttering in my belly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When I found my family after my incident, my adoptive mother, Margaret, would cuddle me and run her hands through my hair. It was incredibly comforting, and it’s all I can think to do right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, I reach my nervous hands out and start running them through his thick, red locks. I hear him hum and my butterflies settle, taking the sound as a sign it was the right move. Feeling bold, I step forward and guide his head rest on my stomach. He lets his arms fall, and his hands hold onto my calves. I feel a little wetness through my shirt, and realize Sylvain is crying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My hands are still combing his hair as I quietly say, “It’s not your fault, Sylvain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands grip my calves tighter. His body starts to shake, like he’s trying to hold back a sob. “If it wasn’t for me, if I didn’t have this fucking Crest…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I slide one of my hands to rub the back of his neck. “It’s not your fault. Never was, never will be. He made his own choices, and cruelly took his anger out on you. You didn’t deserve it then, and you don’t deserve to punish yourself now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands move up to my lower back and he holds me, still shaking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few moments, I step back, kick my shoes off and sit on the edge of his bed. He looks at me inquisitively with puffy, red eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I lay down and hold my arms out. “C’mere, Syl.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With no smirks or flirty remarks, he lays down, resting his head on my chest and wrapping an arm around me. One of my hands rubs his back as the other combs his hair. After more comforting words and tears, he falls asleep. Instinctually, I kiss the top of his head, and it doesn’t take long for me to drift off with him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Blue. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blue.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My eyes blink before opening fully. Sylvain is propped up on his elbow, looking at me, his face close to mine. His eyes are no longer puffy, but a little bloodshot. I want to reach my hand out and stroke his cheek, but hold back, deciding to play it safe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, too.” I push myself up and rub my eyes. “What time is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s 10am, so it’s only been a couple hours.” He sits up next to me, our sides touching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I nod and remember the things I brought him. Getting up, I grab the tray. “Well, the tea I brought you is obviously cold. But you need to eat, I grabbed a lot of biscuits.” I sit and start spreading butter and jam on one before handing it to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiles. “I can fix my own biscuits, you know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I blush. “Yeah, of course. Sorry.” I set the tray on his lap, then fix my gaze on my hands. I’m quiet while he eats, unsure what else to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he finishes, I take the tray and stand up, walking to the door. One hand on the handle, I look over my shoulder to say something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- oh!” He’s standing right next to me. For a big man, he’s really good at sneaking up on people. “Um, will you meet the Lions for dinner tonight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes are twinkling. “Actually, can I meet you at noon to train?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My eyes widen in surprise. “Sure, of course. I’ll ask Byleth if we can have our session later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckles, “It’s funny how you’re the only one to call her by her name.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I call people what they asked to be called, like Dimitri. Well, except Felix.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tilting his head curiously, he asks, “What do you call Felix?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When he’s being a little </span>
  <em>
    <span>extra </span>
  </em>
  <span>fastidious, I call him Kitty. You can imagine how much he hates it, so it brings me a lot of joy.”  Sylvain’s laugh booms in the room, greatly amused by this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he looks at me again, an odd expression flashes across his face. Suddenly, he leans down and kisses the top of my head. “Thank you, Amira, for coming to see me, and bringing me breakfast. Means a lot to me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodding, I smile, then quickly leave the room before I lose myself in those soft, brown eyes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Two weeks after our assignment to retrieve the Lance of Ruin, Byleth and Dimitri are standing in front of the classroom, the rest of us waiting for orders for an urgent mission.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flayn, Seteth’s little sister, is missing, many believe she was kidnapped. There have been rumors around the monastery of some creeper in black armor wandering around at night, looking for something. Seems he found what he was looking for. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri’s commanding voice sounds over the room. “We must locate Flayn, and soon. Let’s gather all of the information we can around the monastery. Surely someone must have heard or seen something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth steps forward. “I want all of you to split up into different areas of the monastery. Follow up on any clues, whatever that means you need to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mercedes and I are assigned to look to the Church. I take the outside, since Mercie knows everyone inside so well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As I finish chatting with a guard on the terrace, I notice Archbishop Rhea is standing at the end of the walkway leading to the Goddess Tower. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, Byleth and Dimitri asked us to talk to everyone.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As I walk closer, she notices my presence. She turns to me and smiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Archbishop.” I cross my right arm and bow, then admire her as I stand up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I might not pray to the Goddess, but something about Rhea overwhelms me. I feel her… for lack of a better word… </span>
  <em>
    <span>grace. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She’s slightly taller than me, with long, flowing hair the color of jade, and a large golden crown with silk lilies on the sides. Underneath her dark blue and gold cape is a silk white dress, which just skirts the cobblestone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amira, isn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I keep my face straight, even though I am very surprised she knows my name.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Archbishop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles, “Please, you may call me Rhea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I nod. “Thank you, Rhea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking into her eyes, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>wow</span>
  </em>
  <span>- I’m a sucker for kind, twinkling eyes. Light green and round like a doe, it feels as if they see right into my soul.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have Professor Eisner and the young Prince instructed your class to search for Flayn?” She asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s correct, Arc- Rhea. Mercedes and I were tasked to look around here. Have you heard or seen anything suspicious?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she thinks over my question, her eyes wander over my face and neck. I can’t look away from her, she’s almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>hypnotizing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amira, what happened to bring about that scar?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My head jerks a little in surprise. “Oh! Um. An incident that happened four years ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She waits, likely wondering if I’ll say more. When I don’t, she hums. “I see. To answer your question, I have only heard there has been a man roaming the village at night. Otherwise, it’s a devastating mystery. I will be sure to have Professor Eisner informed if I hear more. May the Goddess protect dear Flayn until she returns to us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I bow again. “Indeed. Thank you, Rhea.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning on my heels, I head back inside the Cathedral. Finding Mercedes, we compare notes as we walk over the bridge, straight through the Reception Hall, and into the Entrance Hall, where we separate. She wants to pick up a couple things at the market, and I turn right into the Dining Hall, ready for some lunch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After getting a big bowl of stew, I sit down to eat when Sylvain plops in the seat across from me with his own tray. While he has been in a very upbeat mood the past couple days, I still examine his face to gage if he feels the same today. Grief is interesting that way. Some days are awful, some fine, good, depressing, amazing, all of it at once...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now, he’s got a playful smile on his face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ok! He’s feeling good.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain leans over his tray toward me. “So I have a theory-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I put a finger up. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>-hypothesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A theory is something that is already supported by a lot of research and data by professionals, a hypothesis is an assumption made before significant research has been compiled. Linhardt taught me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolls his eyes, but starts again. “So, I have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>hypothesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Flayn, tired of her brother's shit, fell madly in love with a villager, so they ran away to get married!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I drop my fork, lean forward and flick his forehead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ow! What the hell!” He rubs the spot I hit. “You flicked me, Ingrid smacked me. Damn, is it necessary to respond like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, that didn’t hurt</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And yes, one hundred percent necessary. I fully support Ingrid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhg, did he tell you his theory?” Timely, Ingrid sits next to me with her lunch, which seems to be her usual smattering of everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hypothesis!” Sylvain chimes proudly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ingrid raises an eyebrow. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I wave my hand. “Don’t ask, it’s not important.” I hear Sylvain mumble </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘what?’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and flash him a little smile before I keep talking, “He did. I gave him a tiny flick to his forehead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ingrid throws her head back and laughs. “I’m so glad to not be the only one who attempts to literally knock some sense into him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Knock sense into someone? Who, and may I?” Leonie appears, sitting next to Ingrid and leans forward to be filled in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you may not!” Sylvain shouts. “Two is plenty for me outside of the bedro- OWWWW! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who was that?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Based on the way Lee is laughing, she’s the one who kicked Sylvain under the table, making Ingrid need to stop mid-chew, slapping her hand over her mouth so she doesn’t spit out her food from laughing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knocks on the table to get our attention. “Hey, while I love when ladies talk about and do things to me, I’d still like to know why I, </span>
  <em>
    <span>apparently</span>
  </em>
  <span>, deserved all that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sylvain,” Ingrid starts after she safely swallows her bite, “You suggested that the girl who runs away from you anytime you’re near to avoid your flirtatious nature, went off to get married to some random boy in the village. She’s too nervous to even go to the market by herself.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not just Sylvain,” I say, “She’s pretty nervous around most boys. So far, the only few I haven’t seen her anxious around are Dedue and Raphael. Dedue is teaching her how to cook, and I heard her tell Annie she thinks of Raphael as a large, cuddly bear. She’s not wrong, though that cuddle-bear has eight pack abs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain spits some of his water back into his cup. “Wait, wait, wait- how do you know Raphael has an eight pack?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I wiggle my eyebrows. “Oh, you’d loooove to know, wouldn’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods enthusiastically, making me laugh. “Well, then I’m bursting your bubble, ‘cause it’s not scandalous. We were training, he gave me a suggestion, and to prove his point he unbuttoned his shirt to show me his abs. That’s the whole story. Though I will say-” I lean forward and look at Lee, who is smiling during this whole conversation, “-that it was sudden and flustered me quite a bit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wow.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p><span>Lee chuckles.</span> <span>“I </span><em><span>know</span></em><span>. I was there when he ripped one of his shirts the first time. Which is why he trains either shirtless or in the blue training tank now,” she drops her voice to a whisper, “You’ll never see me complain about the former…” Lee smirks, a little red in her cheeks.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>I giggle. “I never complain about anyone being shirtless in the training grounds. Let’s see, besides Raphael... I’ve seen Felix,” I start putting fingers up, “Caspar, Byleth-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-Byleth?!” Sylvain chokes on a bite of food.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I look at Ingrid and Lee, both of them roll their eyes at Sylvain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have bindings or thick training bras,” I explain to him. “Honestly, I would if I could. Anyway, Claude, Ferdinand, and Dimitri… Yup, I think those are the boys who don’t mind being shirtless while training.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t mind being shirtless...” Sylvain mumbles, “Maybe I should train more often… how often, exactly, is Byleth-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ingrid cuts him off, “I’ve seen them, too. Dim- I mean, they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>very… </span>
  <em>
    <span>impressive</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Her cheeks flush. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain doesn’t seem to notice the near-slip, but Lee and I sure do, and we both drop our jaws. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lee nudges her. “Ooooh, nice of you to join the conversation, Ingrid.” Making Ingrid blush more and giggle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Those two keep chatting when I notice the sound of a fork scraping around a plate. Looking across the table at Sylvain, he seems to have given up participating in conversation and is working on eating his food. Albeit dramatically, based on how he’s dragging his fork.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then his mood shifts from being playfully dramatic, hoping to get our attention again, to what it is now. His eyebrows knit together, and his smirk melts into a frown. His other hand lays flat on the table, I move mine to rest over it. His eyes flicker to mine, still slightly unfocused. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey. You ok?” I ask gently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls his hand back and gives me a fake grin. “Aww, I know you’re all just teasing me. I’m alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I give him a small smile and whisper, “That’s not what I was asking about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain’s gaze shifts to Ingrid and Lee, who are still talking amongst themselves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugs. “I’m hanging in there. Thanks, Blue.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I smile. “Want to come with me to train? I’m meeting Byleth…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckles and nods, and we say goodbye to Ingrid and Lee as we take care of our trays, then head to the training hall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed!</p>
<p>Getting comments last week was really wonderful, thanks JK &amp; Kayla! </p>
<p>Literally nothing makes an author happier than (nice) comments, and I particularly like replying/interacting. Even emojis make me happy. </p>
<p>And I'm mentioning this because I've seen it: feel free to leave comments in other languages, it's easy for me to use a translator. :-)</p>
<p>Thank you for reading! Hope to hear from you. &lt;3</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Petra’s birthday gift: on a flat piece of wood, Amira etched the archipelago of Brigid for her to hang on her wall)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Shock.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Amira has an interesting chat with Dorothea, there's an incident at the training grounds, and some quality time with Claude.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>**End of chapter rated E</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dorothea’s room smells like honeysuckles. My dazzling friend is standing at her dresser which has items scattered all over it. A few bottles of perfume, makeup and its brushes, combs, lotions, and other products that look pretty fancy, so I’m not quite sure what those are. Thea is taking items out of a box she received from a designer in Enbarr today. She likes keeping up with trends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dorothea, what is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She giggles and holds up a newly opened package of some sort of lace material. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Panties, of course. You’ve never seen lace ones?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head and chuckle. “Uh, definitely not. They’re pretty but… what’s the point?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her cheeks turn pink. “To wear just because. A woman should have something pretty just for herself. Something that feels sexy and good.” Her eyes sparkle. “And they’re good to wear before getting intimate with someone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She squints at me, then puts the new lace panties in my hand and bends over to open the bottom drawer of her dresser. After digging around the back of it, she stands up and throws me a pair of stockings with clips and all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I glance from the things in my hand and back up to her. “Uhhh, Thea. I can’t take these, they must be expensive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugs. “I have plenty, and those ones sit too high up the thigh for my liking. Even if they’re just for you, or the day when you meet someone you trust enough to show them to.” Thea winks. “Like, maybe Claude?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I glare at her. “What do you mean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘like Claude’</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p><span>Thea rolls her eyes. “I’m not blind, Amira. You two spend a lot of time together. And</span> <span>I see how you both blush whenever you pass each other or say hello.” She sits on the bed and nudges me. “Is something, you know, </span><em><span>going on?</span></em><span>” </span></p><p>
  <span>Trying to play it cool, I nonchalantly say, “No. Nothing is going on. Besides simply being my friend, he’s just, you know, hot. Which doesn’t mean I want a relationship with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs. “Poor Claude, then. Like Lee and I said a couple months ago, he clearly has a crush on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, he just thinks of me as a friend, too. I can say that as a fact.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea hums and sits down next to me. “Ooooh! Who does he like, then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wagging a finger, I say, “No way, not my business to tell. But it’s not me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugs and knits her eyebrows together. “I was so sure. He must just think you’re hot, too. Sylvain, then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I scoff. “One, I told you I don’t have a crush on him-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Still sticking to that, then</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Thea giggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I ignore that. “Two, if I did… while I don’t judge consensual sleeping around, personally I’m a ‘one at a time’ type of girl. I doubt he’d want to settle for one relationship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods. “You’re probably right. Well, then.” She pats the items in my hands, “Even if they’re just for you, maybe they’ll help you feel as pretty as you are.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I smile and nudge her. “Petra is a lucky lady to have the interest of someone as sweet as you, Thea. Thank you for the gifts, it’s really nice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea turns bright red. “I think she’s interested too… she, well…” She beams at me, “Petra asked if I wanted to go into town with her!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My mouth drops open. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What!</span>
  </em>
  <span> And you waited to tell me this?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea squeals, “I’m all butterflies! We’re supposed to be hanging out tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I give her a big hug. “I’m so happy for you, that’s wonderful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We gossip about all the fun details that went into the lead up to Petra asking her when I glance at the clock and jump. “Oh shit! I have to meet Dimitri for training! Sorry to run out like this, Thea. I gotta put these back in my room. Have fun tonight!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hear her say goodbye as I rush out, and I smirk as I run to my dorm. Claude and I are planning to study in the library later. As soon as Thea gave me these things, I realized she wouldn’t be the only one having fun tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once at my room, I open my door and toss the new items on the bed, slamming it closed and sprint back up the steps to the training grounds. I don’t give a shit if I’m a little late for Felix or most people, but when it comes to Byleth or the Prince, I make sure I’m on time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sprinting into the training grounds, I skid to a stop in front of Dimitri and pant, “S-sorry, Dimitri!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha, ha, ha! Amira, you don’t have to run to meet me. Take a couple minutes and we’ll begin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour in, and I almost get knocked onto my ass again. It’s dangerous to be distracted when sparring with Dimitri. His focus is impenetrable. Normally, I stay equally focused, too. However, there are extra variables at play.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While yes, I am used to seeing the men shirtless. But usually I’m not sparring with them during that time, training on my own or with someone else instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right before I nearly got the wind knocked out of me, Dimitri turned away and moved toward a bench. I figured he was taking a sip of water, so I glanced in the grappling corner after hearing a loud curse exit Sylvain’s lips, who’s in </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite </span>
  </em>
  <span>the mood today, and apparently bested by Felix again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My mouth drops open when I see </span>
  <em>
    <span>both of them</span>
  </em>
  <span> are shirtless while wrestling each other… and until that moment, I did not realize that was a picture my imagination was desperately missing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I reluctantly turn my head back to Dimitri and duck his swipe just in time. His Highness also decided to grace me with his muscular upper body, the sun dancing on the beads of sweat, making him glisten. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wow</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the pleasing visuals around me, I refocus on the present moment, and find my bearings quickly enough. I’m proud of myself for being a good student, I’ve actually started landing blows on him! Not winning at all, but I’ll take any little improvement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides causing the chests surrounding me to glisten, the sun is also bearing down on me, starting to get to my head a little. Feeling dizzy, I’m about to call off our sparring session when Sylvain starts yelling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, forget it! I’ll work on it later, Fe! I’m done with grappling. Your Highness, can I spar with you now? Amira, you mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod at Dimitri and hand the lance I’m using to Sylvain. Felix walks up to me with an extra training sword in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wave him off. “Sorry Felix, but I’m not feeling well, I’m going to lay down.” He grunts, but turns away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dragging my feet to leave the grounds, I think of the relief of my room so I can take my shirt off and wash up a bit. </span>
</p><p><span>That’s when</span> <span>the door to the grounds burst open and Ingrid stomps toward Sylvain, her face lit up with rage. “What the hell is wrong with you, Sylvain?! ANOTHER woman cried to me! I don’t even remember how many times the past few weeks that’s happened! Because of </span><em><span>your </span></em><span>carelessness!”</span></p><p>
  <span>Sylvain throws his lance to the ground. “I never </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise </span>
  </em>
  <span>another date with them! And for the ones who stay the night, they can say no, Ingrid. I ask them politely, and often they come, but sometimes they don’t. I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>make </span>
  </em>
  <span>them go to bed with me. I don’t force-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She steps closer, jabbing a finger onto his chest. “I know how </span>
  <em>
    <span>charming </span>
  </em>
  <span>you can be! I’ve seen how you woo women and make them feel like they’re the center of the universe, you manipulate them-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He throws his arms in the air in exasperation. “So I want to make sure they know they’re beautiful, what’s so bad about-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-you know EXACTLY what you’re doing! You’re the future Margrave! Do you have no shame? No sense of decency? What kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>monster </span>
  </em>
  <span>are</span>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The anger that’s been simmering inside me during this exchange makes me snap, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Monster?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take a few steps toward Ingrid and she actually backs a step from seeing the furious look on my face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taken aback by my expression, she sputters, “I mean, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amira! The way he treats them, that’s what monsters do! And… It… Umm...” She stops speaking when she sees I’ve begun to tremble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re wrong.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Is all I’m able to get out, choking on my rage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mouth drops, looking indignant. “How am I wrong?! He-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I barely hear her through the anger pulsing in my ears, the filthy word ringing in my head.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Monster. Monster. Monster</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abruptly, my fury ignited into flames. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>NO!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Who the fuck are you, Ingrid? To tell someone how they should grieve? How someone should seek comfort? Also, he’s not wrong! They’re consenting, adult women.” Stepping forward, I whisper in her ear, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Are you telling me his reputation isn’t widely spread? Some women just want a good fuck, too.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She steps away from me, brows furrowed and lip trembling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I raise my voice again, “Show your childhood friend some compassion and</span>
  <em>
    <span> back the fuck off.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As I take a deep breath, the realization of my harsh words hit me. As tears welling in Ingrid’s eyes, I’m quickly sobered. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>My voice is calmer as I say, “Look… After my… after what happened to me… I was pretty crazy for a while. When it comes to grief, I just… I get it. You’re my friend too, Ingrid. I’m sorry I yelled, and in front of them, but not for what I said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tear falls down her cheek. “You forget that I understand grief too, Amira.” She speeds away and out of the training grounds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence is… awkward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind me are </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>childhood friends, and I just yelled at her in front of them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cool.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I keep my back to them, putting my face in my hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can fight my own battles, Blackwood. I can handle Ingrid, and don’t need you to defend me.” Sylvain growls, and his feet stomp as he storms out of the grounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuuuuuuuuuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, I turn around to face Dimitri and Felix. While looking at their feet, I say, “I’ll… give her some space, then apologize better.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I glance at them. Dimitri is looking at the ground, his hand over his mouth, eyes screwed in thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking at me, Felix says curtly, “He might be insatiable, but she deserved it. I don’t think you’re wrong.” I nod at him, and glance at Dimitri again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lowers his hand and meets my gaze. “While I understand what you were trying to say, I feel it was a bit harsh. You need to talk to Ingrid alone. You’re not the judge of how people show their grief, either, Amira. See her tomorrow, after you both have time to cool down.” Guilt tugs hard at me as I nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix makes his signature ‘tch’ sound, Dimitri ignores it and continues. “Don’t take what Sylvain said personally. When he reflects on it, I believe he’ll appreciate your intention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I let out the breath I was holding in one long huff. “Oooh, believe me when I say I don’t take it personally.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Easier said than done, unfortunately. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>On that note, I follow Ingrid and Sylvain’s footsteps and leave the grounds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Smoothing the skirt of my uniform down, I triple check to make sure no skin is showing, and am happy I don’t see any. Only if his hand goes where I believe it will, that’s when he’ll realize I’m wearing something special.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking in the library, I’m relieved to see only Claude and I are here. Now I don’t have to wait to make my move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks over his shoulder, and those emerald eyes sparkle as he smiles at me. “Hey, Flash, glad to see you finally made it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take the seat next to him, fixing my skirt and starting to feel a little nervous. I notice a large map and notes are scattered in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry I’m late. So, what’s this? Homework?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head, “No, the Deer have a quest to rid a village of bandits this weekend. I’m just getting the layout of the land and planning what I can.” He leans back in his chair and stretches his arms out. “Might be a late night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might be,” I say coolly, and place my hand on his thigh, giving it a squeeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glances around the room before leaning forward and placing his arm on the back of my chair, resting the other over my skirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’ll always welcome </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>distraction,” he whispers before giving me a quick kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That helps my nerves quiet down, so I whisper, “Claude…” I squeeze higher on his thigh. “Will you come back to my room with me?” I bite my lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprise and excitement cross his face. “Are you sure?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod. “We just have to be quiet so Leonie doesn’t hear us. So, will you come?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He starts rapidly cleaning up the table. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Absolutely.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as we’re locked in my room, I lean against the door. I put my pointer finger up and beckon him to come closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claude pinches my chin and tilts my head to the side, his lips graze my cheek and down my neck, kissing at the crook. Light shivers run down my spine as his mouth trails back up to my cheek and he gives me the deep kisses I love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As I knew he would, his hands move down to rest on the outside of my thighs. I open my eyes, hoping I’ll get to see his reaction in a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands slide up, and I feel the warmth of his hands land on the division between the stockings and my bare skin. Claude pulls back from the kiss and looks at me in surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I bite my lip as his hands explore, his lustful expression intensifies as he realizes I’m definitely not wearing leggings, and the lace material he’s feeling on my ass is special underwear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What’s this about?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He purrs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tugging on his braid to make his head tilt, I plant a kiss on his neck before whispering in Almyran, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you want to taste me, Claude?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His hands grip my ass tighter, responding back in his native tongue, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oooh, Gods yes. Are you sure?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You can’t take anything off, but yes. Please Claude, taste me.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moaning, his lips kiss my neck as one of his hands keeps alternating between rubbing and squeezing my thigh and ass, while his other starts rubbing my center over the lace. My hand starts to rub his hard on, but he swats it away, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not yet.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He starts moving down my body, gently biting me through my clothes as he kneels in front of me. My skin is heating up, my breath quickening with anticipation. His thumb still rubbing over my underwear, he kisses and gently bites my inner thighs through the stockings, sending lightning bolts through my body. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Whoa. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling the underwear to the side, exposing my center, he teases my clit with his fingers, then looks up at me, and I whimper, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>His tongue lightly licks up my center. I emit a small gasp and curl my fingers into his hair as I rock my hips, wanting more. But Claude takes his time, tasting my slick, occasionally moaning into me, which makes more noises escape my mouth. I pull on his hair, and this time he obliges and pushes his tongue deeper into my folds. I simper as I watch him devour me, finding it so fucking hot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s when he works two fingers into my sex, constantly changing the paces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going to come, Claude.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>I grip tighter on his hair, and his fingers thrust faster into my sex, and, stiffling my cries, I come on his face. My thighs are shaking, and I start sliding down the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Claude stands up, sweeps me up and lays me down on the bed. Crawling over me and between my spread legs, he kisses me passionately, and I taste my bittersweet slick on his tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling away, I take his face in my hands and gaze lustfully into his eyes. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I want you inside me.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinds his bulge on my center and moans, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oooh fuck, Amira, tell me again.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I crash my lips onto his and move my hips along with his grinding, then purr, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to feel you in me.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>At incredible speed, he jumps out of bed and throws his clothes off, then he stands next to my head. I suck on his dick until he’s extremely hard, then he climbs back on top of me. Moving my underwear aside, he rubs his tip up and down my folds, getting the slick from my orgasm on it. He positions his tip at my entrance and glances up for final confirmation, and I nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, he pushes his thick cock inside me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slapping my hand over my mouth, I stop a loud groan of slight pain and pleasure from escaping me. Occasionally he pauses briefly, allowing me to get used to his hard length. His eyes are closed, his mouth shut tightly. When he’s all the way in, he lowers himself down, gently kissing my mouth and neck as he slowly slides in and out of me, letting me get used to his large size. Once I do, I arch my back and start rocking my hips to signal he can move faster. Swiftly, Claude wraps his arms under my back and pulls me up as he leans back on his legs, and now I’m sitting up in his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh Gods, you’re so deep,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>I groan, making him moan into my mouth, trapping our cries as he bounces me up and down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tightening my muscles around his cock, Claude hisses “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” through his teeth as he throws me off just in time to decorate my skirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully, I shift over so he can collapse next to me, both of us breathing heavily, trying to catch our breaths. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He speaks between pants. “Sorry...about...skirt… and… quick….”</span>
</p><p><span>I giggle. “I have more. That… oooooh Gods. That’s alright, it felt good.</span> <span>I feel like I’m floating, Claude.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Khalid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My Almyran name is Khalid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Khalid</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” I say, loving the way it rolls off my tongue. I beam at him. “Is that what you’d prefer I call you? When we’re alone, I assume? Does anyone else know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls onto his side, facing me. “When we’re alone, I’d love to hear you use it,” he smiles, “it’s what I’ve been called most of life, before coming here. Only you and Teach know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching over, I tug playfully on his braid. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you for trusting me. I’m honored,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” I say in his native language. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Affection grows in his eyes, and he leans in to give me gentle kisses. He rests his head on my shoulder. Feeling the heat of his breath on my neck, I hear him mumble, “Amira… was that… your first time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Involuntarily, I abruptly laugh and slap my hand over my mouth. He props himself up on his elbow to look me in the eyes, surprise on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> funny. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At all. </span>
  </em>
  <span>To better answer your question, I wasn’t a virgin. But this is the first time I’ve wanted it and enjoyed myself. So, thank you for showing me it can be amazing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately after I stop talking, I cringe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ooooh, oops. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I hope he’ll focus on the very last thing I said, but his eyebrows knit together... and I wish I could take it back, but it’s too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claude’s body tenses, his eyes are full of concern. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>First time you wanted it?</span>
  </em>
  <span>... Amira, after your leg injury, you told me you have more scars-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I slap my hand over his mouth and hiss, “Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>ruin the complete bliss I’m in right now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hums against my hand, eyes narrowing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Damn</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Knowing him, he won’t drop it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sigh, “Please, Khalid. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shoulders relax, and he nods. Dropping my hand, I sit up, give him a kiss, and ask him to close his eyes tight as I change my outfit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… Was this </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>first?” I ask after slipping on my comfy pajamas, a blue long sleeve shirt and sweatpants, and lay back on the bed, looking up at his beautiful face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles. “No, not mine either. Willingly lost it a few years ago, and I’ve had a little practice since before coming to the Academy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He winks at me, I chuckle and move onto my side, putting my hand on his chest, signaling for him to lay down. Claude wraps me in his arms and we cuddle a little, until I notice we’re getting sleepy. He begrudgingly gets up so he can head back to his room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I have the best night's sleep I’ve had in months.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I work in the field of trauma, and I’m just mentioning it because something that’s common when my clients talk about their trauma is they laugh as a coping mechanism to deal with the darkness of it. It’s uncomfortable, but it happens a lot and I felt like that fit Amira.</p><p>I wanted to clarify that just in case her reaction to Claude’s question made yuh feel weird.</p><p>---</p><p>And I'd LOVE</p><p>LOOOOOOOVE</p><p>*love* to hear from you : -)</p><p>Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Understanding.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Amira reaches an understanding with Ingrid, and has interesting encounters with the Prince, Sylvain, and Claude.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>some cute shit and some frustrating shit</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Horsebow Moon.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the day after I yelled at Ingrid, and I’m now standing anxiously in front of her door. After taking a deep breath, I knock and hear Ingrid say enter. Walking in, I close it and turn to face her. She’s sitting at her desk, not looking up from the letter she’s writing, her long blond hair hiding her face. Glancing around her room, I’m not surprised by how organized and tidy it is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Ingrid. I just wanted to come by and talk with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She keeps writing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At least she’s not kicking me out, I guess.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I apologize for pushing and yelling at you. Sylvain made it clear I shouldn’t have interfered, and he was right. He’s a man who can handle his own business.” I sit on the edge of the bed, my elbows resting on my knees. “You told me you understand grief too, and I know that. However, it’s important to know that grieving is a very personal thing, and doesn’t look the same on everyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ingrid forcefully puts her pencil down, and turns in her chair to face me, her jaw tense. “I understand that too, Amira.”  She rolls her neck and sighs, “You have no idea how exhausting it is to listen to all these girls. They all know I’m his friend, and vent to me. I’m told what he says and does to make them feel precious and wanted. It’s so much worse to hear from the ones who go to bed with him. He makes them feel special, even though he knows he won't pursue them. It’s so deceitful.” She begins massaging her temples, “It’s been some time since he’s been this bad. He was more straightforward for a while. I didn’t have so many complaints. But since his brother died, he’s regressed.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hands fall into her lap. She looks away and stares into nothing, the corners of her mouth drawn downwards.  “After the Tragedy, we were all so devastated. Still are. Worried about His Highness witnessing all those murders. Felix mourning his brother, who was my fiancé.” Her eyes begin to glisten. “Sylvain can be like a big brother to all of us. Always checking on and comforting us, but he has held his own grief in. A year after the Tragedy is when he started getting out of hand.” Ingrid takes a deep breath, “Over time, none of us have gotten much better. Now I feel like I’ve taken the role of big sister to them, except His Highness. That’d be inappropriate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m quiet for a moment to give her time to continue, and process all she said. After a few minutes pass, I sit up straight and nod. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to listen to them. Yes, it’s extremely manipulative and that’s awful. It’s not right.” I pause and look at the floor, trying to be careful with how I say the next thing. “But… There's a difference between alluring words, and hands grabbing and holding you down.” I shudder. “I’m not trying to say what he does is ok, it’s not. But do you honestly believe Sylvain would coerce women into bed with him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My eyes flicker back to her face, she slowly shakes her head, and whispers, “No, I know he wouldn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I nod. “Me neither. Let’s have some trust in him.” I lean forward, “Ingrid, you clearly love your friends. You’re fiercely protective and worried about their well-being, which is probably why you’re so hard on Sylvain. I see your love as admirable, truly. But for your own healing and sanity, set boundaries with these women. Tell them you can’t listen or speak about it anymore. You’re not Syl’s manager or mother, you’re his friend. I also think focusing on him helps you ignore your own pain, which only stunts healing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raises her eyebrows at me. “I’ll take the idea to set boundaries into consideration, and I hear what you’re saying about how I might be ignoring my own pain… but, forgive me, isn’t that what you were doing when you wore your scarf? And what you still do now by always wearing your long clothes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I close my eyes and take a deep breath, suppressing the sudden anger that’s rising in me. “Maybe. But I’m not talking about that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods. “Of course, I’m sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I wave it off. “It’s fine. Um, thank you for talking to me. I feel like we understand each other better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ingrid gives me a small smile. “I agree. Thank you for coming by, Amira. Umm, want to train tomorrow?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I stand and walk to the door, opening it. “Yes, of course. See you then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Closing it behind me, I take a deep breath and look towards the end of the hall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can </span>
  </em>
  <span>see if Sylvain is in his room. I need to talk to him about yesterday, too. But what if he’s still mad? I hate a mad Sylvain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Uhg, but I should get it over with</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I take a couple steps toward his room and stop. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or I can wait until later.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Maybe I’ll see him around the monastery, then I can gage what mood he’s in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I spin on my heels and yelp, “Oh, shit! Sylvain, you scared me. How is it you’re the only one who can sneak up on me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugs and turns one corner of his mouth up. “Were you going to see me?” His voice is solemn, and his eyes match it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I give him a small smile. “Yes. Can we talk?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods and walks past me towards his room. I follow him, with his long legs I don’t exactly stay in stride, but I’m fast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This feels like an echo from earlier in the month, when I held him and he cried against me. He leaves the door open for me to close, and sits on the edge of his bed, resting his head into his hands. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Should I run my hands through his hair again?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m standing there awkwardly, not sure what to do next, when he gestures at the desk chair. I sit, playing with my hands for a moment before speaking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, I just want to apologize for-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He raises a hand. “No, don’t. You were just trying to help. I snapped at you for it. I’m the one who’s sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I try again, “No, I overstepped and-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amira, why don't you think I’m a monster?!” My head jerks back, surprised by his sudden loudness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stands up and starts pacing. “Everyone else thinks so! I’m just a worthless piece of shit. My brother was cast out just because he didn’t have a Crest and I do, and now he’s dead because of it. Women only want me because of it! None of them give a shit about who I am. I’m just some sort of studhorse, made for breeding.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That makes my heart stop. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, Sylvain, you’re wrong. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I wish I could rip those thoughts out of his brain and replace them with everything I believe about him. If I knew a kiss from me could silence this shitty self-deprecation, I wouldn’t hesitate. He has no idea what a monster really is, and this man is anything but that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Standing up, I interrupt his pacing and grab his face, making him look at me. “I need you to listen very closely to me.” My voice is low and serious. I let go of him. “I know what monsters are. I’ve looked into their cold eyes and experienced hell.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take one of his hands and make his fingers trace my scar. As his eyes follow his fingers, they narrow, full of pain and anger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I whisper as I’m dragging his hand across my throat, “You would </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>do this to a woman. Never. This is what monsters do, Syl. They hold you down and give you no options. But...” I lower our hands, still holding on. “A while ago I told you to be straightforward with women, which it sounds like you stopped doing. I’m not going to lecture you, because you know that’s shitty, so knock it off.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glances up at the ceiling. I sigh and squeeze his limp hand. His gaze meets mine again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re wrong, by the way,” I say softly, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>give a shit about you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> care about who you really are. I’m a woman and I don't care about Crests. You are so much more than that, Sylvain. You love your friends, take care of us, and check on everyone. In battle you always charge forward to protect us, rush to help anyone injured. I remember you tried to take me out of Dedue’s arms and carry me to the infirmary yourself.  I saw you comfort Ashe when his adoptive father died. You let Ingrid yell at you because you know she’s still so hurt about Glenn. You let Felix’s harsh words roll off your back, because you understand his pain. I see all of it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re a good man.</span>
  </em>
  <span> We all have things we can improve on, no one is perfect. And you’re certainly, one hundred percent, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>a monster.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand is now gripping mine tightly, his face is relaxed, but he’s giving me a look I can’t quite read. Not sad anymore. It’s like he’s trying to see into my mind and find if I’m being truthful, but at the same time he’s not skeptical of my words. I step forward, rest my head against his chest and wrap him in a hug. He moves his arms up to hold me, and I feel his chest slowly rise as he takes deep breaths. Keeping his palms still, I can feel his fingertips curling in and out against my back. He rests a cheek on the top of my head, making me smile. The lioness in me is purring, enjoying this closeness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, I feel his head shake from side to side. He takes my shoulders and gently pushes me away. I let go of him and take a few steps back. His features are suddenly grave, hands on his hips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sylvain?” I say timidly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Umm, I think I’m going to take a nap.” He moves to the door and opens it. A little taken aback, I amble to the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I stop in front of him. He looks away, refusing to meet my eyes. “I meant every word. Including you being a good man.” I whisper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head. “I’ll see you later.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door shuts the second I’m out of its way, and a cold wave moves through my body. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Grief isn't linear, Amira, don’t take it personally</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Even though I believe it, that doesn’t make it easy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right next to Sylvain’s dorm is Dimitri’s, and his door is open. I try to sneak by, both wanting to just go back to my room, and not wanting to bother him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amira?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I step toward Dimitri, leaning against his door frame and put on my best </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I’m totally ok’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>act.  “Hey, Highness. Whatcha doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks back down at his book like it’s offending him. “Ah, just studying politics. This particular book is a boring read, if I’m honest. I welcome a distraction. Come in.” He closes the book, and I sit in the second chair he has, next to his desk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glances up at my face, and I smirk. Dimitri squints back, then gets up and closes his door softly before sitting back down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I need to work on my ‘I’m totally ok’ act.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I click my tongue. “He’s having a hard time, is all. He didn’t think I had anything to be sorry about, like you said. I tried to be honest with him about something, but I don’t think he believed me. It’s fine, really.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri leans forward. “For some reason, I have a feeling it’s not fine. You can be honest with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I chew on my cheek. “He keeps getting called a monster, Dimitri. It gets to him.” Staring into his ocean blue eyes, I point to my scar. “This is what a monster does. Sylvain would </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>do anything even close to this.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leaning back in the chair, he lets out a sigh. “I know what getting called a monster is like. It’s not pleasant.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I rest my right arm on his desk and grimace. “Oh, right. Felix told me why he calls you ‘Boar’ sometimes. I got mad at him, to be honest.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean… it’s just he doesn't understand what we hear in our nightmares. Reliving horrors we’ve seen over and over again. All I did was tell him to shut the fuck up and not talk about things he doesn’t understand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri leans over his desk again, smirking. “Heh, and what did he say to that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh nothing, we just started sparring again. You know how he is.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckles. “I sure do.” He rests a hand on mine, “Amira, I hope you know you can talk to me anytime, about anything.” I smile, turn my palm up and squeeze his hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks. The same goes for you.” We stand up at the same time. He quickly moves to the door and opens it for me. “Always the gentleman. See yuh, Dimitri.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Passing Felix’s dorm, I see Claude’s is open, and I hear a loud laugh from his room with someone else’s chuckles mixed in. Smiling, loving the sound of a genuine Claude laugh, I peer around his door, seeing him sitting at his desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude beams at me, “Hey, Flash! What are you doing coming from that direction? Please, enter!” I take a step in and halt when I see it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sylvain </span>
  </em>
  <span>sitting on the bed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He must’ve passed by when Dimitri’s door was closed. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’s now changed out of his uniform and into a light green dress shirt and nice pants, and my insides are suddenly burning like a raging fire. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude is too busy cleaning his desk to notice my shift in temperament. “Sylvain’s about to head out, though. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Another </span>
  </em>
  <span>date,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I keep my focus on Claude. “I was just talking with Dimitri for a moment. And I can’t stay, I have to meet someone for training.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok. Study later?” He looks at me and raises his eyebrows, now noting the irritated look on my face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A corner of my mouth turns up. “Tactics?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain mumbles, “We have tactics homework?” I ignore him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude’s eyes sparkle. “Sounds good, Flash. Later.” I turn sharply and speed out the second floor, beelining toward the training grounds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I hope Felix or Byleth are there. I either want to try to kick some ass, or get my ass kicked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Either way, later I’m sure Claude won't mind how I plan on getting some frustration out.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello!  </p>
<p>If you're reading this, no matter when I posted it, I'd love to hear from you in the comments! Coming up in three chapters is some pretty intense stuff, I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter or the story so far. Or literally any thoughts. An emoji. Whatever you got!</p>
<p>THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!!!!!!! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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